


Regulations

by Pep_Squad_Levi



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy Racism, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, Threat Of Self Harm, Voidfish Effect, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pep_Squad_Levi/pseuds/Pep_Squad_Levi
Summary: Davenport's mind is a twelve by twelve room with walls covered in static__A look into Davenport's backstory and why there were no early memories for him to fall back on as it was for the rest of the crew.





	Regulations

**Author's Note:**

> Hey..... So..... I wanted to fuck up Davenport, and that's basically what this fic is. Hope ya like it!

Davenport’s mind is a twelve by twelve room with walls covered in static.

__

 

When Captain Davenport becomes pregnant, there’s a huge uproar in the Director’s office. The protocol states that she, and her husband Chief Engineer Davenport be relocated to the civilian settlement, and be reassigned to positions that will accommodate their new status.

However, The Director was interrupted making the arrangements when Captain Davenport climbed onto his desk and stood, inconveniently, on the paperwork.

“There is _no_ way, after all we’ve done for this organization, that you will demote us to part time officers. I have worked too hard- I have given _everything_ to this organization. This is my life, the base is our home, and we’re not leaving just because protocol dictates we must. You need us here, and we won’t leave.”

The Director blinked up at the gnome, which he’d grown used to looking down to, and finally understood how she had commanded a Pioneer Class Vessel for twenty years.

__

 

The Director of the IPRE, hereby authorizes these ten (10) non-regulation items;

       

(1) Crib, Standard Size

(3) One piece baby garments, blue

(1) Soother

(1) Fleece blanket, blue

(2) Pairs of cloth shoes, grey

(1) Titanium rattle

(1) Teething Ring

The Director also authorizes Captain Abigail Davenport and Chief Engineer Andrew Davenport to order any and all essential childcare items including, but not limited to; specialized food, sanitary items, and replacements for any of the above items.

__

 

When the items were finally shipped, Chief Engineer Davenport kicked in the door to the head office and berated the Director for an hour. He stormed out red faced and unable to meet any of the working ensigns’ eyes.

__

The Director of the IPRE hereby amends the previous order of non-regulation items, to specify that they must be **Gnomish Sized**.

The IPRE apologizes for the confusion and will refund the previous order.

__

“It’s not technically stealing,” Captain Davenport assured her husband, “I’m teaching the ensigns while I can’t be in active duty, and this” she gestured at the star map projector, “technically is a teaching aid. I’m allowed to use it as I see fit.”

Chief Engineer Davenport smiled at his wife. She was heavy with child by now, but still insisted on carrying in their future baby’s belongings without help. She had only asked him here to help position the projector in the middle of the room.

“I just think it will be nice for them, y'know?” She said, flipping a switch to turn the projector on, “They’ll be able to see where we are when we’re on missions right from their bed.”

The room was illuminated by the soft glow of a million pinpricks of light. It wasn’t exactly pretty. After all, it was supposed to serve as a visual text book, but Chief Engineer Davenport could see the stars he fell in love with, and the place he fell in love with his wife.

She was always so beautiful, but especially now, softly glowing in the projector’s light, hands braced against her back to relieve some pressure. She was so powerful, so brilliant, and if this child is even a fraction of her, then they are going to take the planes by storm.

“It’s perfect” he said.

__

The Director of the IPRE is pleased to announce that on June 29th, at 4:57 AM Captain Abigail Davenport gave birth to a healthy child. This is the first child born on an IPRE base. She, and the Chief Engineer Davenport will not be cleared for active duty for six months. In that time, their assignments will be given to the Acting Captain of their crew, Commander Helena Orch.

__

 

“You have my grandfather’s name, little one. He was a Captain of a ship. He was the one who made be believe I could ever be a Captain myself. He died at sea… He would have loved to meet you, Davenport.”

Davenport Davenport is a novelty to most of the base and a nuisance to the rest. The first six months were a wave of noise complaints and Senior Officers bustling into the family’s quarters to meet the baby. Captain Davenport’s crew stay for hours, updating their Captain on her assignments. She listened intently, providing insight to a navigation issue as she breastfed her son.

__

“I can’t wait to be back on the ship,” She said to her husband one night. They were putting Davenport to bed, and the projector had shone a familiar star system right above the crib. “I never realized how cramped this base is.”

She wasn’t wrong. Regulation rooms were twelve feet by twelve feet, and her son’s was no different. The walls were plain, and the floor was tiled, and there was one window looking out the courtyard and one door leading to their small common area.

The only non-regulation items in the room, save for their child, could fit in the small regulation dresser.

“We’ll be back there soon enough,” Chief Engineer Davenport said. He watched as his son dozed under a blue fleece blanket. “Until then, we have work to do here.”

__

Six months later, Captain Davenport and her crew are assigned to a four-month research mission to try and gather more information on exiting the material plane. The night before they left, Captain Davenport sat for hours holding her son.

“We’re coming right back,” She said softly, watching the stars blink on the ceiling, “Look up and you’ll see right where we are. Mommy and daddy, are going to find new stars and when we do, we’ll bring them back to you. I love you, Davenport.”

Chief Engineer Davenport triple checked that everything had been arranged so his son would be taken care of in their absence. When the time came to leave, he kissed his son goodbye.

“Don’t worry, Davenport, we’re coming right back.”

The ship breached orbit easily and for the first time, he looked down at the planet instead of the stars.

__

The medical ensigns were assigned to Davenport’s care in the name of hands on experience in a proper bedside manner, as well as training should they ever have the complication of a pregnancy on board.

Davenport was passed from one pair of medical ensign to the next every four hours. One pair, an elf woman named Alta and a human named Brad took a particular liking to him.

“He’s just so _tiny!”_ Alta said as she shook the rattle in front of Davenport’s face. He giggled and grabbed at it with strong, little fingers. Alta made a noise of frustration. This kid was just too damn cute.

“It’s so weird that like, we’ve probably spent more time with him than his parents have.” Brad said as he cooked down some standard rations into a mush. “Like, their mission was supposed to end two months ago, and they’re not back. It’s not like they have complications, they just elected to continue researching.” Alta frowned at him as he added a few non-regulations spices to the pot.

“Don’t say that! I’m sure they have a really good reason for continuing the mission,” She picked Davenport and set him upright against her chest. He wasn’t even the size of her forearm. “Isn’t that right Davenport? Your mommy’s a very smart lady, and she’s going to come back with some very important research, right?” Davenport drooled a bit and gurgled. “Fuck, why is this baby so cute?!”

__

 

The Director of the IPRE is pleased to announce that the Pioneer Class Vessel, The Slingshot, will be docking at 0900 hours in Docking Bay 4C. All personnel and items must report for sanitization before brought inside the base. All reports state that the mission was successful. We are one step closer to Inter Planar travel.

__

 

“The name is aspirational, Davenport,” Chief Engineer Davenport told the toddler sitting on his knee, “We’re researching the planes right now, and hopefully, we’ll get to the exploration part soon. Now eat your peas.”

Davenport dutifully ate most of the food on his plate before, shoving the rest of his rehydrated peas under his crust of bread.

“Papa, are you are gonna do that?”

“Do what sweetie? Eat your peas.” Captain Davenport asked from across the table.

“Go outside the planes.”

Andrew met Abigail’s eyes.

“Of course, we will.” He said quickly, “We’re very close to figuring it out. There are very smart people working on that, far smarter than your old dad.” He said winking at his wife. Captain Davenport rolled her eyes, a slight blush colouring her cheeks.  

“Now, eat your peas. You can’t just hide them!” Davenport pouted, but no one could deny that Abigail’s “Captain Voice” inspired obedience.

Davenport ate his peas.

__

 

Davenport Davenport received some of the best schooling anyone could have asked for. The medical ensigns were tasked with teaching him letters, and when he got the hang of it they put in an order for some children’s books.

There was no question that Davenport would be a bright kid. His parents were two of the most senior officers on the base. They had been teaching ensigns when they weren’t on missions on and off for twenty years. They knew more about the planes than anyone at this point.

True to form, Davenport picked up reading quickly. Alta would have him read every other line in the books they read together, marveling at how easily he spoke.

“He’s like five, this is nuts,” She said to Brad as they watched Davenport turn the pages of _Fantasy Cat in the Hat._

“Gnomes mature faster,” He said, adding a few rehydrated carrots to a soup he was making. It was a poor imitation of the one his mother used to make him, but it still felt comforting.

“That’s a myth,” Alta said, “Anyways, it’s impressive. Maybe we should start bringing our text books here, and studying with him.”

__

 

“Machines sing, Davenport, you just have to figure out how to make all the parts harmonize.” Chief Engineer Davenport was wrist deep in the coffee maker. “Fetch me that wrench, please.”

They could have easily ordered a new one, but it was child’s play for Chief Engineer Davenport to fix it, and he’d been going insane with nothing to do on his shore leave.

Seven-year-old Davenport grabbed the wrench and scurried back to his father.

“See? That’s the power source. Do you see where it’s disconnected?” His father pointed to a mess of wires and cables.

“Papa, it’s just a bunch of cords. I can’t tell anything apart.”

In the past year, other ensigns had been assigned to his tutorage as well as a few senior officers. He’d been given a very well rounded education, but he’d been most keen to learn from the old retired Captain of a very early Archetype Class Vessel. They’d studied a few different forms of magic together. They’d only just gotten past the basic fundamentals of spell casting, but it was so _fascinating_ to Davenport.

“Come on, son, look,” Chief Engineer Davenport pointed at a thin red line, “This is what connects the power to the rest of the machine. If that connection is severed, the whole thing can’t work. Even if everything else is connected. Sometimes, a problem is as simple as a single broken bond.”

Davenport nodded, but still wasn’t totally sure how he was supposed to tell the power line from any of the other red wires crisscrossed through the machine.

“Here, you hold the light, and I’ll sort this out. Then your mother can have her coffee and you can show me all you learned from Captain Rem.”

__

 

The Director of the IPRE is pleased to announce that the Pioneer Class Vessel Slingshot has been assigned to a two-year mission to research the outer rim of the Material Plane. All personnel are to report to the head office for assignment of additional responsibilities. We salute the gallant crew of the Slingshot, and wish them well on their mission.

__

 

“That’s a very good try Davenport!” Captain Rem said, clapping his gnarled hands together in delight. Davenport groaned and deflated as the spell fizzled out at his fingertips.

“It’s not good, it’s bad, it’s- ugh! Why is this so hard?” He couldn’t cast a simple cantrip. He’d been trying to force out a conjure flame for the past half hour and had only just managed to make a few sparks.

“Now, now, it’s a little more difficult for you. Wizardry is less instinct and more understanding than the way us Sorcerers do magic.” The Captain laughed, reaching over to pat Davenport on the shoulder.

He’d gotten taller in the past few years, and at ten years old stood about two feet. His hair, red as his father’s, curled past his ears. Everyone could already see his mother’s strong profile in his bone structure. He was going to grow up looking exactly like them both.

“I understand _fine!_ ” Davenport said, “I just don’t get why this won’t work!” Captain Rem sighed and ruffled his hair.

“Try again, and this time, envision the flame, reach out with your mind, say the command word, and _try_.” Davenport nearly growled at the words, but he closed his eyes, and did as he was told.

A few dim sparks winked out at his fingertips.

“Again.”

__

“It’s important to let your crew name the ship, Davenport.” His mother said, filling out reports at the kitchen table, “The crew needs to trust and love the ship. They need to feel some sort of pride and ownership over it.”

“What if they name it something really dumb?” He asked, trying to read over her shoulder.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, like something really dumb.”

“Well, then you let them. The ship becomes their home, Davenport and they need to love their home.”

Davenport watched her sign off on a five-year mission and wondered if the ship was her home too.

__

Chief Engineer Davenport loved to sing. On the _Slingshot_ , the music echoed up from the engine room and filled the ship.

On the base, he sang as he cooked, or cleaned, or helped Davenport through the lessons the ensigns and Captain Rem had sent him home with.

“What are you singing, papa?” Davenport asked one night.

“Oh, it’s an old song, something I learned as a boy back home,” He said stirring water into the rations on the stove.

“What’s it about?”

“A ship on the sea that’s lost in fog. The crew can hear the water breaking against the rocks, but they can’t see where it’s coming from. They keep trying to sail to shore thinking it’s just a few miles out, but little do they know they’re just sailing around an island again and again and again, until they all starve to death.” Chief Engineer Davenport said, “It’s a rather grim story, now that I think of it.”

Captain Davenport lowered her book and gave her son a curious look.

“Dear, can you not understand the words?” She asked, gently.

“No,” Said Davenport, returning to his homework, “I never learned Gnomish.”

Abigail swallowed a lump in her throat and continued reading, listening to her husband sing.

___

The Director of the IPRE is pleased to announce the Slingshot has made it safely to the outer rim of the Material Plane in a record three weeks. Reports from the ship are that there is a high probability that this mission to breach the outer planes will be successful. On behalf of everyone who made this mission possible, the IPRE thanks you for your hard work and sacrifice.

__

 

At twelve Davenport papered his room with recruitment posters. The beaming faces of his parents and their crew stared down at him. His list of non-regulation items had dwindled to one ratty old blue blanket and a small tinkling rattle that he refused to give up.

When he turned on the projector, he saw them all, where they should be, in the stars.

__

 

When he was thirteen he applied for an ensignship. He’s two years younger than the minimum age, but the Recruiting Sergeant had taught him calculus last month, so he was fairly certain that he had an edge.

His parents had brought home new stars every time, and he had added them all to his projector. One day, he’d bring home new stars too. He’d fill up the hard drive with them. He’d order a new light when this one couldn’t illuminate the sheer vastness of the space he’d discovered. He would go farther, he would work harder, he would be better than anything they’d ever seen before. He would be the most remembered Captain that the IPRE would ever know.

They tell him to wait one more year, and finish his studies with Captain Rem. Davenport’s surprised that he doesn’t mind.

__

 

They breach the outer rim when he’s sixteen.

Davenport had just finished his exams the month before, completed the mandatory hours of base work, and applied for a command internship.

“I’ll be a Captain,” He told the posters, “Just like great grandpa. I’ll be Captain Davenport the third.”

He touched the fraying edge of his blanket, and turned the rattle over and over in his hands, to hear the bright sound of metal hitting metal.

The sound was drowned out by a growing roar outside his window. He climbed onto the regulation chair he pushed under the window so he was tall enough to see outside.

In the courtyard, ensigns and senior officers alike poured out of the domed buildings. Everyone was hugging, cheering, and throwing papers in the air.

He raced down, pushing his way outside, and yelped as someone lifted him up onto their shoulder. With a start, Davenport realized he was on Deputy Medical Officer Brad’s shoulder, and looking down he saw Chief Medical Officer Alta, happy tears streaming down her face.

“Davenport! Oh, my fuck- do you- _They did it!_ Oh Davenport, you must be so proud!” She squealed.

Davenport just held onto Brad’s hair tightly as he brayed loudly in victory. How did people _deal_ with being up this high?

“You did hear, right? The _Slingshot_ breached the outer rim! They’re officially exploring the outer planes! They- They’re doing something that’s never been done before, and we- oh my god, we’re here to see it!”

Davenport felt a huge wave of emotion rise in him.

“They made it? My parents, they made it out of the planes?”

Alta teared up again.

Director was shaking hands with Captain Rem, both of them elated.

Brad was more vocal than he’d ever seen him.

Davenport punched his fist in the air and let out a “whoop!” before throwing himself into the crowd and joining the celebration.

__

The Director of the IPRE hereby authorizes the release of all research gathered by the Pioneer Class Vessel _Slingshot._ The IPRE confirms the existence of twelve separate planes, and reaffirms the commitment to continue the exploration of what exists beyond them.

__

The Director of the IPRE regrets to announce that the Pioneer Class Vessel _Slingshot_ has reported a mechanical failure onboard. The Pilgrim Class Vessel _Juniper_ will be sent to the outer rim in order to provide assistance. We thank the brave souls that have taken on this journey and praise their commitment to the continued exploration of the planar system and what lies beyond.

__

The Director of the IPRE regrets to announce that the Pioneer Class Vessel _Slingshot_ has not reported back to base in the past three months. They are now classified as Missing In Action. The Pilgrim Class Vessel _Juniper_ has not made contact with _Slingshot_ and has seen no sign of their presence. All magic users are to report to head office, and assist Captain Rem with scrying.

__

The Director of the IPRE regrets to announce that the Pioneer Class Vessel _Slingshot_ has been out of contact from both the IPRE Base and the Pilgrim Class Vessel _Juniper_ for a total of ten months. The Pilgrim Class Vessel _Juniper_ has been recalled from their rescue mission. All magic users are released from scrying duties. Regular assignments are now in effect again. The IPRE thanks the brave and valiant souls who put themselves in this dangerous position for the advancement of our understanding.

__

Davenport shouldered open the door to head office.

“Hello Director, sir,” He said, announcing his presence. At twenty, he stood three feet eight inches. Though he was very tall for a gnome and broader than his father had ever been, the Director couldn’t see him over his desk.

The Director looked up from the paperwork strewn across the desk and glanced down at him.

“Oh, Commander Davenport, hello, thank you for coming, please take a seat.” Davenport took a breath.

They both pretended not to be embarrassed as Davenport lifted himself onto the chair with his forearms. When Davenport was kneeling on the cushion and could just meet the Director’s eyes, the Director cleared his throat and piled the paperwork neatly.

“Would you like some tea?” The Director offered, gesturing to the nearby regulation teapot.

“No thank you,” Davenport said, “Is this about my application for Captaincy?”

“No, no, you’ve certainly done everything required for your own ship and then some, I’m sure that paperwork will come across my desk any day now.” He answered kindly, “No, that’s not why I called you here.”

There was a very pregnant pause.

“As you know, we’ve lost contact with the _Slingshot_ for over two years now, and it is- “

“Is there any news?”

The Director faltered.

He’d known Davenport his whole life. He’d watched him playing in the courtyard, seen him grow up to be their most brilliant Command Student. He was a symbol of what the IPRE could be.

But right now, all the Director could see was that kid. Sitting in front of him, hardly daring to hope for some kind of good news.

“Davenport after two years of radio silence, it’s protocol to- “

“No.”

“It’s protocol to assume that the vessel has- “

“No, you can’t- “

“Encountered failure to the point of- “

“They’re out there! They’re out there on your orders and they- “

“Crew casualty. The IPRE- “

“Don’t you fucking abandon them!”

“Cannot risk the lives of more officers, it is regrettable- Commander Davenport!”

The Director jerked back as Davenport jumped up from the chair and leapt onto his desk.

“You’re going to just fucking leave them out there, with nothing, fucking _nothing_ , coming for them? After all they did for you? After they followed every order, after- after they fucking left me here year after year! Do you think they wanted to? Don’t you think they’d rather a life here with their fucking son? They did everything you asked them to and you’re going to leave them for what? For-” His voice broke, “For _protocol?_ ”

The Director’s face hardened. He would not be bullied by a gnome on a desk again.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me what they _sacrificed_ for _protocol!”_ He stood, drawing himself to Davenport’s height, “Your parents have only ever acted as though protocol didn’t apply to them! When Captain Davenport became pregnant we offered to relocate the two of them to a civilian outpost and reduce their duties to part time officers, and she demanded we bend the rules for them. Hell, when they joined they demanded everything be changed. Specialty equipment, refused to tailor their uniforms themselves-demanded we order new ones! They wouldn’t even use the standard regulation toiletries! Do you know how _expensive_ your parents were to us? And that’s not even including you!

“Because of you, we amended every medical ensign’s schedule and workload. Do you know how many _overtime hours_ were spent raising you? At any time, your parents could have retired from active duty, god knows I asked them to. They refused, and so you were handed off to us. We provided you a home, a school, a whole life, a guaranteed career!

“Davenport, protocol is supposed to stop this sort of thing! To remove the outliers, to-to manage _people!_ So, no, I will not spend more valuable Institute time, money, and personnel to go after the _Slingshot_ , just because you decided it’s worth it when protocol dictates otherwise!”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Davenport stood shaking on the desk, as all the anger drained out of the Director. With a deep sigh, the Director sank back into his chair.

Oh, what had he done?

“Commander I-” The Director fought the lump building in his throat, “Commander, I must apologize.”

Davenport very carefully climbed back into his chair and drew his knees to his chest. There was a long moment only broken by Davenport’s hitching breath.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Davenport whispered, “I… I don’t have anywhere else, this is my _home,_ I don’t-”

“I know. That wasn’t fair to you,” The Director had never felt worse in his life. “I should never have-” He couldn’t look at Davenport. “I’ve lost ships before… But I’ve never had to see the- well, the fallout. I’ve never had to address the grieving family, or justify the cost. Your parents were- “

“My parents did more for the IPRE than you ever could.” Davenport said coldly, “And you’re just going to leave them out there to die.”

The Director sighed.

“Davenport, the crew of the _Slingshot_ … they’re dead. There’s nothing I can do to change that, and I wish there was, but- Davenport, they would have run out of food a year ago.” He said, quietly.

Davenport felt his throat close up again. Hot tears spilled over onto his cheeks.

“We will hold a memorial service as is…” The director faltered again, and the last word died on his tongue.

“When my Captaincy is approved, I want to lead a crew outside the material plane.”

The familiarity between them was dead. Even tear stained and shaking, Davenport looked more a man than the boy the Director knew now.

“I’ll put the request through.” He said, shuffling the slightly wrinkled paperwork. “Thank you for coming in.”

__

Davenport retreated to the twelve by twelve room he’d known his whole life. He moved quickly through the common space even though he knew it would be empty. It would remain empty until he was assigned a crew.

Slamming the door shut, Davenport fell to his knees and screamed. His parents were gone. Lost somewhere in space, cold and dead and alone. Either starved or suffocated, or hellishly torn apart by some unknown evil.

Or worse, trapped somewhere, some horrible stasis of eternal trial and error to get home. He felt sick at the idea.

The posters smiled down on him, illuminated by tiny pinpricks of light, trapping them behind a veil of stars.

Davenport put his fist through the projector.

He slammed his hand down against the metal and glass until it shattered. Fractured light reflected off the broken pieces of the device, creating a broken skyscape across the walls and ceiling.

All he had of his parents were a few fragmented memories, official documentations of their missions, a ratty old blanket, and a small metal rattle. He had _nothing_. No part of him wasn’t steeped in the thing that stole his parents from him.

He knelt there, knuckles bloody and broken, bleeding on the tile for an hour before he remembered the Director’s words. His parents had non-regulation toiletries.

When an officer died, all their regulation items were sanitized and recycled, but non-regulation items were disposed of. He could take them and no one would know. Protocol only demanded the reuse of regulation items, while everything else was shipped to the next of kin. Davenport supposed that’s him now.

He walked carefully over to his parents room. It looked identical to his, save for a larger bed, and an en-suite bathroom. When he became a Captain, he could elect to be moved to a room like this one.

The room was bare. Any personal items, his parents owned were probably taken on board the _Slingshot_ , but if there was even a chance that they left something behind, he had to check.

He carefully picked his way through the room; half wanting to tear it apart and half wanting to keep the room in perfect order. After shifting through the regulation dressers, the bed clothes, and the small bookshelf, he was still empty handed.

Refusing to give in to the powerful desire to just throw himself into his parents’ bed and sleep, he stepped into their bathroom and prepared to upturn everything.

He didn’t have to though. His father’s shaving kit was laying out in the open, as though he’d just left and was coming back. The number of non-regulation items Davenport owned ticked up from two to three.

Reverently, he reached out and picked up the thin wooden box. It was incredibly well crafted. Davenport had never seen anything so purely decorative before. Inside there were a selection of straight razors, and some delicate looking scissors. There were beautiful blush china pots filled with creams and oils. Everything smelled of rose tinted soaps, and sandalwood.

Tucked away in the back corner was a small bottle of his mother’s favourite perfume. It was still sealed in its pretty blue box, wrapped in a deep purple ribbon. A present for her on their return.

Davenport closed his eyes, breathing deeply to let the scent wash over him.

His father had held him close and kissed him goodbye. His mother had praised how hard he was working at his studies and hugged him until they called her aboard.

Careful not to get any of his blood on the box, Davenport tucked his robe around the shaving kit, and carried it back to his room. He stepped over the broken pieces of the projector and knelt by his dresser. He gingerly placed the shaving kit and the perfume in his drawer, and pulled his old blanket close to him.

By now, most of the trim had come away and there were holes through the fabric, but it was still soft and comforting against his cheek. He sank down onto his bed, curling around the blanket.

This was all he had.

This tiny room, this tattered blanket, this tiny silver rattle, and now an old shaving kit with a bottle of perfume were all he owned that couldn’t be recycled and handed off to the next person. Sobs shook his small frame. This wasn’t fair. No one should be this lonely. No one deserved to have their family cast into the ether and just be expected to give up on them.

He stayed there until Alta and Brad brought him some food. Eventually though, duties dragged them away, and he was alone again.

__

 

The Director of the IPRE is pleased to announce that Commander Davenport Davenport has been promoted to Captaincy. He will be reassigned to instructing ensigns until further notice.

__

Captain Davenport couldn’t quite contain his excitement as he walked down to the Director’s office. He knew there had been a huge development in the Research and Development, but everyone had been so tight lipped with all the information, that he had no idea what to expect.

He’d been a Captain for almost ten years now, and still not been off the base. He didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. He had been teaching ensigns and helping with research. The Institute was still his home, and as much as he itched to get to the stars, he wasn’t going to waste his time here.

Besides, all missions since the _Slingshot_ were lost had been within their own plane. The Institute wasn’t going to risk losing more Pilgrim and Pioneer ships, until they made some headway designing a safer option.

“Hello Director,” He said, stepping through the door. The Director smiled over his desk, down at Davenport before gesturing to the chair across from him. Davenport used the added step to climb up to chair and knelt on the cushion.

“Hello Captain Davenport, thank you for coming in.” Davenport could tell that the Director was elated, but attempted to keep his face neutral, “We have some very exciting news.”

A beat of silence passed as they both tried to contain themselves.

“We found something _amazingly_ powerful, Captain. Something that we never considered was possible. The team is still doing research, but we suspect it to be a leftover by product of the creation of matter itself.” The Director continued, “And we believe we can forge it to power a ship.”

Davenport felt his eyes widen. _Holy shit._

“Holy shit,” He whispered, before thinking better of it. The Director just nodded.

“Should this be possible, we believe this ship would be capable of going outside the planes and surviving.”

Davenport stared at him.

“And we would like you to lead the first mission it makes.” He finished, “You’re more than qualified, and the Institute owes you greatly for your service.”

Davenport felt a swell of emotion rise in him.

“When would this mission take place?” He asked, excitement coursing through him. He could go _outside_ the planes. No matter how frightened he was, the prospect of forging new ground, of making a real difference with his work, was exhilarating.

“In a year, or thereabouts” The Director answered. Davenport could see where his fingers were gripping the edge of his desk. They were both clearly thrilled at the prospect.

“I’ll do it,” Davenport said, “I’m- Thank you. This opportunity means so much to me.” He meant it. This was the chance he was waiting for. The Director smiled warmly at him.

“It has been an _honour_ to have you be a part of our Institute, Captain Davenport,” He said. Over the past ten years, time had smoothed their relationship. Things were never the same, but they both held a great deal of respect for each other. “And I say we drink to it.”

Davenport laughed as the older Elf drew a bottle of fine liquor from under his desk and poured two glasses.

“To the Institute,” The Director said, lifting his glass. Davenport lifted his as well.

“To Captain Davenport.”

___

“And you were stationed at which medical facility?”

“Small one out by the Forest of the Evergreen.” Merle Hightower Highchurch said. “Called _The Tranquility Grove_. It was a religious order of clerics devoted to healing any and all people who came to our doors. I was stationed there about ten years, and before that, I was a member of Fantasy Doctors Without Borders.”

Davenport scanned the Dwarf’s résumé. Fifty years serving FDWB. That was more medical experience than anyone needed.

“Well, you’re certainly qualified to join a crew, but I have to ask,” He leaned over the table slightly, “Why leave? Wouldn’t you be safer continuing your practice here?”

Merle smiled and laced his fingers together. Davenport could see the beginnings of a tattoo poking out from his sleeve.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t think it’s about being safe.” He said, “I wanna go out and see everything. Yknow, Pan’s teachings say that the world is full of his creations, and hell, I’ve been lucky enough to see a lot of them, but then I hear about this whole “Light of Creation” powered ship, and a mission to find new planes and… well how could I _not_ want to go and see what else Pan has in store for me?”

Davenport smiled. He thought of how Merle had climbed up on the chair the same way he had; forearms braced until he could get a knee on the seat. Davenport had never seen a Dwarf or any other Gnomes except for his parents work for the Institute. It would be good to change that.

Besides, Merle put him at ease. He seemed unflappable. He reminded Davenport of Alta, who, despite having the busy schedule of a medical ensign, found time to play with Davenport. She never lost sight of the small things that life offered. Pragmatism never made her unkind, and Merle seemed to be similarly motivated.

“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Highchurch, I’ll be in touch shortly.”

___

“I only asked to see Mr. Taaco could you please wait in the hall?”

“No,” said the Elf sitting next to her brother, “See, we’re sort of a package deal. I haven’t lost sight of him for as long as I’ve known him, and I’m certainly not gonna start now.”

“I mean she’s got a point,” The other Elf chimed in, “There’s really no point only taking one of us, because we’re not going without each other.”

Davenport sighed and ran a hand over his face. Putting down his clipboard, he leafed through his papers to find Lup Taaco’s resume and placed it on the table.

“So, what made you want to join the IPRE?” He asked. He’d been interviewing people all day, and he was getting very tired.

“Well- “

“I thought- “

Davenport sighed again, and turned to face Lup directly.

“Ms. Lup, what made you want to join the IPRE?” Lup visibly brightened at the question.

“I just feel like we’ve always been travelling. We don’t really get tied down to one place,” She tucked a strand of hair behind her elegantly pointed ear, “And what better way to travel than with a team of amazing people and a sick ass spaceship.”

“Hell yeah, same answer!” Taako said, kicking up his boots on the table. Davenport couldn’t help but laugh again. The twins smiled at him, clearly a little pleased with themselves.

“And it says here you’re both cooks?” He ran his finger down the long line of restaurants the two of them had worked.

“Yup,” Taako said quickly, “And as I see it, an Institute marches on its stomach. Space is gonna be more bearable with some actual worldly comforts. And don’t even worry about rations. We’re used to cooking with limited resources, and we’re pretty damn good at it.”

Lup and Taako high fived.

Davenport thought about Brad cooking whatever he could with the rations they were given. Most of his childhood was spent watching him get creative with protein power. It’s hard to make anything on the base palatable to a five-year-old, but Brad had done it. He’d made sure Davenport wasn’t just fed, but taken care of. He’d made meals something to enjoy rather than an obligation. He got the distinct impression that these two didn’t do anything that wasn’t absolutely steeped in flavour.

“You two seem to have a lot of promise,” He said, stapling their resumes together, “I’m you’ll hear from us soon.”

___

“Have you ever worked on a machine of this scale, uh,” Davenport checked the resume in front of him, “Barold?”

“I’ve worked on agricultural machinery my whole life, so, I’m pretty used to big dangerous machines that need to be fixed quickly. Oh, please, uh, call me Barry,” Barry Bluejeans said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Everyone back home calls me Barry.”

“And where’s home for you?” Davenport pressed.

“A farm back in Prosheria, that’s where I worked most of my life, actually,” He laughed a little and scratched the back of his neck, “I have a big family, and we all worked together. I’m actually one of the first to leave Prosheria, and it’s, well, it’s sort of a dream of mine to go somewhere no one else has been.”

Davenport skimmed the resume in front of him. Barry chewed the inside of his cheek. He was clearly very nervous.

“What do you do for fun?” Davenport said, trying to put the man at ease, “Any hobbies?”

“I uh, I’m pretty into music,” Barry said, “I play piano, and I mean, I’m no master, but I’m actually pretty good. It kinda feeds into my work, yknow? Bunch of different components that make it all work.”

Davenport smiled.

“Thank you, Mr. Bluejeans, I’ll talk this over with the Director and, we’ll give you a call.”

___

Magnus Burnsides was possibly the largest man Davenport had ever seen. He was almost twice Davenport’s size, and broader than he thought was possible. He swallowed thickly, and knelt a little higher in his chair.

“So, you’re applying for the security position, Mr. Burnsides?” Davenport asked.

“Yeah, well I mean, I figured, the IPRE is known for training some of the best wizards in the world, and, no offense I’m sure you’re very capable in a fight, but we don’t know what we’re going to face out there, and I’d rather not have an entire team be vulnerable after they can’t cast anymore,” Magnus said, “Y'know, like, you can’t just rely on one strategy, you need to attack things from different angles. Not to mention, I can take a few good hits, again like, no offense, but you might want someone on your team that can.”

Davenport really had no argument for that. Strangely, his practical approach to problem solving reminded Davenport of Captain Rem. He fought a lump in his throat when he thought of the old Captain’s funeral and was suddenly reminded of just how short humans lived. Magnus was probably less than twenty years away from his halfway point.

“You’ve made a very compelling case,” Davenport said, glancing over the resume again, “I’ll be sure to let you know our decision.”

___

“I think very quickly on my feet, and I’m very adaptable. This is a good opportunity for the Institute to reach more people. When you return from this mission, everyone will want to know what it’s like outside the planes, but not everyone can read an official report. That’s where I come in. I can write an account of the mission that’s available to the public. The Institute will be more visible and more people will be compelled to show their support.” The woman folded her hands in front of her, “Besides, this is the most exciting thing we’ll ever live through. I think this is the most important story I need to tell.”

“It’s good to see you’ve put so much thought into your future here Ms.-” Davenport skimmed her resume. There was no name written anywhere. “I’m sorry, how would you like to be addressed?”

“Lucretia,” She said.

“No last name?”

“I’m a ghost writer, I have no need for one really,” She said quickly. It sounded rehearsed. “I don’t need to be recognized or anything like that.”

Davenport didn’t press her further. People came to the Institute for all sorts of reasons. He wasn’t going to discount her for wanting some privacy.

Besides, she was certainly powerful, and had a long list of recommendations for her writing skill. She listed Gnomish as one of the languages she was fluent in.

“You really care about the Institution, I see.” He said.

“I believe it’s going to do very important things, and I admire their commitment to the goal of exploration despite the obstacles.” She said. She was impeccably well spoken and pragmatism shone through every word. In some ways, she reminded him of the Director.

“I’ll contact you as soon as we make our decision,” He said, smiling at her. She gave a small smile back. “I hope to see you again, Lucretia.”

___

Captain’s Log, August 4th, Year of The Third Order, 0800 Hours

I have been overseeing the construction of the Unity Class Vessel that utilizes the Light of Creation as a power source. This is the first vessel of its kind. Chief Engineer Bluejeans has been spearheading the endeavour, and we are all very hopeful in his success.

I have been briefing the crew on the prospective trajectory of our mission. We’re only going to be gone for two months, and even then, only a quarter of that time will be spent outside the planes. Most of our mission will be seeing what effects being outside of the planes will have on our ship. Also, to test out the new power source and see if we can recreate it or find an alternative.

The crew themselves seems to get along well enough. Mr. and Ms. Taaco are very used to working together and it shows. Security Officer Burnsides seems to be friendly with the crew, but a little more reserved. Chief Medical Officer Highchurch has taken a liking to the Base’s vegetable garden. Lucretia has been very helpful in documenting the process, but has kept to herself without making an effort to get to know the rest of the crew. However, whenever we need to work as a unit, they put an overwhelming effort into having the whole crew succeed.

We’ve only been working together a month now, and already I am incredibly proud of my team. I have no doubt that they’re going to be magnificent together, I can tell.

__

Half way through the construction of the ship, Captain Davenport walked down to the Engineering Department. It was after hours, and the hanger was nearly silent, save for a few ensigns working on projects.

Captain Davenport wandered towards the huge silver ship that took up most of the hanger. It was smaller than most of their vessels, only meant for two months of travel. She was just a skeleton at the moment. The engine stood apart glowing from the light inside. She was unfinished and empty, but _fuck_ she was Davenport’s ship. She was what he’d been working for his whole life. He had a crew, he had a command, and now he had a ship. He could finally touch the stars he’d slept under every night.

Davenport reached up and pressed his hand to the shining metal plating, feeling the chill ripple through him and goosebumps rise on his skin. His palm was only three inches wide, and it looked tiny compared to the looming hull.

“Hey, buddy,” He whispered to the ship, “You’re going to take such good care of my crew.”

__

Davenport sat with his head in his hands.

“Barry, I’m honestly just _baffled._ ” He said, not lifting his face to look at the Human. Barry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Honestly, I- look I’m _so sorry,_ this was a terrible oversight and I- I swear I didn’t mean anything by it or-” Davenport could hear the edge of panic and shame threatening to overwhelm his Chief Engineer, “I wasn’t thinking- I swear I’m going to fix this.”

Davenport lifted his head and sighed. The rest of his crew was sitting along the back wall of their common space. Perhaps it was cruel to do this in front of everyone, but Davenport wasn’t about to let something like this happen again.

Lup’s abject glee at Barry getting scolded had been replaced with an uncomfortable grimace. Taako mirrored her expression almost exactly, long fingered hands twisting in his lap. Magnus had crossed his arms over his chest, and tucked his chin down, as though he expected to be chewed out next. Lucretia had closed her ever-present journals at his request. This didn’t need to be recorded.

Merle was the only one who was actually watching what was happening rather than staring at their shoes or a spot on the wall. He looked disappointed.

“Barry, I know that you will.” Davenport said, “I just- I’m angry that I have to ask you to fix this in the first place.” He gestured to the blueprints in front of him.

Barry could barely look at them. He’d been very proud when he had presented them to his Captain, as though he didn’t even notice the massive oversight in his design.

The cockpit of the ship had been designed perfectly, just as to the Institute’s standards. However, his Captain was not exactly the standard Institute officer.

“You knew that this was being built for me, you knew I’d be the only person to fly this ship, and you somehow forgot that I wasn’t a Human? Or maybe you mistook me for an Elf? I certainly have the ears for it.” That wasn’t entirely true. Davenport’s ears were too rounded and curled over themselves in a way that was decidedly not Elven, but at this point he didn’t care. Barry couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Captain I- I’m so sorry, I promise this won’t happen again, I’ll make all the necessary changes,” Barry was legitimately distressed at this point, head bowed down so his glasses threatened to fall off, “I take full responsibility and I-“ He faltered, before taking a deep breath and said, “I apologize to you as my Captain, because you trusted me to do this and I failed you, and I apologize to you as my friend, because you deserved my respect and I let you down.”

Davenport felt something inside him tip over from anger to understanding. He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“I accept your apology Barry, and I’m glad that this will be fixed.” He gave the man a small smile, and saw as Barry visibly lost some tension in his shoulders.

“Now please understand,” Davenport addressed the rest of the crew, “I didn’t do this as some sort of public shaming. However, you all need to know that any kind of disrespect to any member of this crew will not be tolerated. We’re all from different walks of life, we’re all going to have to be a little understanding of each other’s differences. Okay?” He watched as they all nodded. “Thank you for coming in, you’re welcome to return to your work.”

The crew broke off and started back to their own stations. Barry gathered up the blueprints and started to leave when Davenport stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“You alright?” He asked, hoping his tone was kind. Barry nodded, still looking ashamed but not nearly as upset as before. Davenport leaned in a little, “You’ll make the necessary changes to the medical bay as well, right?”

“Yes, Captain, thank you for, uh, not mentioning that.” He said, ducking his head down.

Davenport just nodded, patting Barry on the arm before hopping down from his chair and walking back to his room.

__

 

“Captain Davenport?” A young ensign knocked at his quarters. Davenport called for her to enter.

“Hello Sir,” She said, offering him a pile of paperwork, “These are the requests for non-regulation items to be brought onboard.”

“Thank you,” He said taking the papers. He caught her glance back at the posters on his wall as she left.

He’d elected to stay in his quarters even after he’d been promoted. It made the most sense really. There wasn’t much he had and the room was a fine size for him. He smiled at the faded faces of his parents and their crew, before setting the papers on his desk.

Each member of his crew had to declare all non-regulation items they wanted to bring on board, and as their Captain, he had to approve them all. He turned to the first list;

          Officer Lup Taaco, Under Captain Davenport Davenport

          I, Lup Taaco, Officer on the as of yet unnamed Unity Class Vessel request to bring the following forty-seven (47) non-regulation items on board;

Davenport felt as though his stomach had dropped out of his feet. He quickly turned to the next page only to see;

          Chief Engineer Barold Bluejeans, Under Captain Davenport Davenport

          I, Barold Bluejeans, Officer on the as of yet unnamed Unity Class Vessel request to bring the following non-regulation thirty-two (32) items on board;

Davenport felt sick. His hands started shaking as he turned through the rest of them. Merle requested fifty items to brought with him, Taako wanted to bring thirty-five. They listed off all sorts of things, clothes, mementos, specialty pens for Lucretia, spices for Lup, Magnus’s grandfather’s knife, prayer books and talismans that were too important to leave behind.

Davenport thought about his tiny dresser where he kept his three precious items; one small rattle, one old blanket, and a shaving kit he’d been using for the past eleven years. He’d been good about ordering replacements for the creams and keeping the razors sharp so it always stayed like his father left it.

Did everyone have… more than that?

He tore open the file containing his parents’ official reports and scrambled through the papers of their last mission until he found the request forms.

          Chief Engineer Andrew Davenport, Under Captain Abigail Davenport

          I, Andrew Davenport, Officer on the Pilgrim Class Vessel, _Slingshot_ request to bring the following seventy-five (75) items onboard;

          (1) Non-regulation Shaving Kit

          (2) Non-regulation Sets of Tools

          (7) Books of Varying Subjects

          (45) Various Garments Other Than Uniforms

          (1) Photograph of Davenport Davenport

          (10) Records of Musical Audio

          (3) Family Heirlooms

                  -Broach of family crest, sapphire inlaid

                  -Silver Hair fastener, pearl inlaid

                  - Gold ring bearing family’s crest

          (1) Titanium Wedding Ring

          (1) Birch Wood Flute

          (2) Personal Stimulus Items

          (2) 750 ml Thrice Distilled Whiskey

          I hereby declare that all other items brought aboard the _Slingshot_ are regulation approved and up to the standard code of the IPRE.

          Signed,

          Andrew Davenport

Davenport let the papers fall to the tile. He could picture his father’s hair clasp. It was a shining silver band he used to keep his hair pulled back. The fastener was adorned with a pearl, the metal carved with an intricate pattern. Davenport himself wore his hair in the same style, though, tied back with a plain black ribbon as was regulation approved. He had no idea it had been owned by anyone before his father. He had no idea they even had family heirlooms, let alone, a crest of some sort. It wasn’t even the side of his family that bore the name Davenport and- In a panic, Davenport realized he didn’t know his father’s bachelor name.

Numbly he looked at the fading faces of his parents and realized he barely knew them.

He sat back at his desk and signed off on everyone’s items without reading them, before penning a request of his own.

          Captain Davenport Davenport, Captain of the as of Yet Unnamed Unity Class Vessel

          I, Davenport Davenport, Officer on the as of yet unnamed Unity Class Vessel request to bring the following three (3) non-                         regulation items on board;

          (1) Fleece blanket, blue

          (1)  Titanium Rattle

          (1)  Non-regulation Shaving Kit

          I hereby declare that all other items brought aboard the as of yet unnamed Unity Class Vessel are regulation approved and up to the standard code of the IPRE.

          Signed,

          Davenport Davenport

__

 

“Boaty-”

“No.”

“McBoatface.”

“ _No!”_ Lup said again. Magnus winked at her.

Davenport sighed and shifted his knees under him. They’d been trying to name the ship for about half an hour, and they were no closer to making a choice. Davenport knew that as Captain, he really shouldn’t give any input, but at this point, he was getting so frustrated that he was about to call the ship _Unity_ and be done with it.

“Spinnaker.” Merle suggested.

“That’s just a boat, though,” Barry said, “Are we just naming our ship ‘Boat’?”

“What if we put an _adjective_ in front of _Spinnaker,”_ Lucretia prompted, scrawling down a few options in her journal.

“ _The Stinky Spinnaker_ ”

“ _Not_ that.”

“ _The Laser Spinnaker”_

_“The Hyper Spinnaker”_

_“The Tail Spinnaker!”_

_“_ The fuckin’ _Flying Boat!_ ” Taako said, laughing along with the rest of the crew.

“I was thinking more along the lines of _The Fighting Spinnaker,”_ Lucretia said. She giggled as she wrote down every option. There was a collective “ooooooh” at her suggestion.

“What about _Lightbringer?_ ” Magnus said. There was a collective murmur of interest.

“ _Lightbringer’s_ more in the neighbourhood of what I was hoping for.” Davenport began.

“I’m sorry, Cap’n’port, who- who gets to name the boat?” Magnus interrupted. Everyone at the table gave Davenport a mock glare. “Like, is this _our_ boat or is it _your_ boat cause it feels like you really wanted us to create this name ourselves.”

“It’s your boat,” Davenport moaned, tapping his pen against the pile of forms they’d have to fill out.

“The _Flying Spinnaker_ is funny cause someone would be like ‘wait do you mean a flying boat?’ and we’d be like ‘exactly, bye!’ and we’d blast off!” Taako kicked his feet up on the table as he made the joke. Once the laughter quieted, they realized that they still hadn’t made a choice.

“How bout-” Merle began, “How about _Sky Spinnaker?”_

“So, ‘Sky boat.’” Magnus countered.

“ _Skyweaver_ ,” Taako said.

“ _Skyweaver_ is better.” Lup agreed.

“ _Skyweaver_ that’s not bad,” Merle stroked his beard.

“The _Stardancer_ ,” Magnus mused.

Oh, that would be a wonderful name for their ship. He would be Captain Davenport of the Unity Class Vessel _Stardancer._ It was poetic and beautiful and it spoke to their mission _perfectly._

“ _Starblaster”_

Davenport slumped over and whacked his forehead on the table. Mother fuck, he hated his crew.

“ _Starblaster!”_ Magnus and Merle echoed Taako in unison.

“ _Starblaster,”_ Magnus said again.

“ _Starblaster,”_ Taako answered, with great enthusiasm.

“ _Starblaster,”_ Merle dropped his voice to a menacing growl. The table was quickly dissolving into laughter.

“The _Starblaster!”_ Taako exclaimed bracing a foot against his chair and standing with his hands on his hips. Lup shoved him sideways and he toppled to the ground in a fit of giggles. Barry let out an undignified snort and wiped some tears out from under his glasses.

“Alright, you can call it the _Starblaster,_ ” Davenport said, shaking his head in disbelief. He hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. He penned in the name to all the forms.

“Well, now that the truly hard part about getting this ship ready to fly is over,” Magnus smirked at Barry’s indignant expression. “I’m gonna go get some sleep.”

The team filtered out one by one and retreated to their rooms.

Davenport walked down to the hanger, and stood under the grand hull of the _Starblaster._

“We’ve given you name now, buddy,” He said, pressing a hand to the smooth, shining metal, “Very soon, you’re going to see the stars. We’re going to go places no one else has, and you’re going to be amazing. They’re going to remember us forever.”

__

Davenport stood on the deck of his ship. He’d walked into the cockpit a thousand times while preparing for the mission, but this was different. This was it. This was when they took on the planes, and made history.

Alta and Brad had hugged him and wished him luck on the mission. He couldn’t wait to come back and tell them everything; to see their faces when he stepped of the first Unity Class Vessel after traversing the planes.

He stepped into the cockpit and settled himself into the seat. His crew was stationed in at their positions, waiting for his command.

“Alright, buddy,” He whispered, touching the consul reverently, “Let’s show them what we can do.”

__

Distress Call; Unity Class Vessel, _Starblaster,_ Captain Davenport Davenport

We have experienced an unprecedented complication. There is some unidentified destructive force attacking the material plane. We’ve been attempting to maneuver to avoid damage to the ship. There is concern about how long we can hold this position. All communications only yield static.

__

Distress Call; Unity Class Vessel, _Starblaster,_ Captain Davenport Davenport

Mayday! Mayday! We’ve lost visual contact of the base. All communication lines are open waiting to receive orders. We can’t stay here much longer. Holding this position could endanger my ship and my crew. If I do not receive any communications, I will have to prioritize their safety over assisting the base.

__

Distress Call; Unity Class Vessel, _Starblaster,_ Captain Davenport Davenport

I have never seen anything like this. There’s an all-consuming force, some kind of horror from outside the planes. Is there anyone planetside getting my distress calls? I can’t stay much longer. We’ve had too many close calls already. All connections have become static. Contact us ASAP.

__

Distress Call Patched to The Director’s Secure Line; Unity Class Vessel, _Starblaster,_ Captain Davenport Davenport

Can you hear me? Is anyone there? I’ve been trying every channel, but I can only hear static. Are you there, Director? We can’t stay, we need to know how to get out of this. What should we do? What are your orders, sir?

__

Distress Call Patched to The Director’s Secure Line; Unity Class Vessel, _Starblaster,_ Captain Davenport Davenport

Director, are you reading me? Director, we can no longer see the planet. It’s as though the whole plane is being consumed, and we- we can’t be caught in here, but if there’s any way that we could aid Pilgrim and Pioneer class vessels getting off the planet, we need to know _now._ Director, are you reading me?

__

Distress Call Patched to The Director’s Secure Line; Unity Class Vessel, _Starblaster,_ Captain Davenport Davenport

Is anyone there? Anyone?

Alta, if you can hear me, please, contact us.

Director?

__

Distress Call Patched to The Director’s Secure Line; Unity Class Vessel, _Starblaster,_ Captain Davenport Davenport

We’re going, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is our only chance.

We’ll come back, I promise, I have to save my crew, I have to go.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Director, I’m so sorry.

__

Captain Davenport Davenport had never felt so completely empty. He stared at his crew, frozen in place on the deck of the _Starblaster_. The ship was idling in the space between planes, still as they were. The material plane below them shimmered and rippled, almost beckoning them to come inside.

“What… What happened?” Lup’s voice sounded broken. Davenport had never seen her so distraught.

“Did the world just end?” Magnus asked quietly.

“The material plane is right below us, dummy, we can just go back, right?” Taako snapped, rounding on Davenport to explain this.

Davenport couldn’t respond.

“Captain Davenport?”

Davenport felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Cap’n’port you good?”

Davenport coughed and brushed his ponytail over his shoulder.

“Okay, we… we don’t know what happened,” He said quickly, “I’ll continue to try and contact the Institute, and if that fails, we go down to the plane and find some way to figure this out.”

Lucretia clutched one of her journals in her hands.

“Until we know what’s happened, we treat this like a regular complication. Chief Engineer Bluejeans, take Commander Taako and Commander Lup and repair any damage sustained to the _Starblaster_. Chief Medical Officer Merle, take Security Officer Magnus to the med bay and see to his eye. Chronicler Lucretia, take down everything you remember. We will need a record of this when we-” his voice suddenly choked out. He swallowed thickly and looked over his crew. They looked as afraid as he felt.

“For when we come home.” He finished as confidently as he could.

The crew nodded and peeled off to do their jobs, leaving Davenport alone on the deck. He blinked up at the stars and realized he couldn’t recognize them.

Wherever they were, it wasn’t home.

__

Captain’s Log, September 18th, Year of The Fourth Order, Time Indeterminate

We have encountered a terrible misfortune. After exciting the material plane, we witnessed the destruction of our reality. I tried to contact the Institute for hours after arriving in this new… wherever this is. There was no answer, there wasn’t even a connection.

We’ve decided to take the _Starblaster_ down to the material plane in ten hours. I have no idea what to expect down there. I can only trust in my crew and their ability to work through this. They have been incredibly impressive already, and I have complete faith in them.

__

Seven years into their terrible trial, they finally arrived at a place without anything to do at all. They had recovered the Light, they had found no sort of intelligent life, or evidence of civilization. Lup theorized that it was because of the planet’s harsh climate and unpredictable storms.

Davenport made the call that after the Light was found, no crew member should leave the _Starblaster._ There were plenty of chores they’d neglected, and repairs to make to the ship. Eventually, even Barry stopped finding things to do around the ship, and they began to settle in to a few long months of cabin fever.

Davenport had settled himself down with a deck of cards (standard issue, traditional Elvish.) There weren’t many games that he could play without a partner, but at least this would pass the time. He played for about four hours, trying to ignore the mind-numbing sensation of losing to himself at cards.

“Whatcha playin’?”

Davenport looked up to see Merle standing above him. Davenport rested his elbows on the coffee table he was sitting in front of. It was the perfect height to play cards on.

“Oh, uh, just a card game,” Davenport said lamely, “There’s always a deck in the standard Entertainment Kit on board every ship, so… I just thought I’d…” He trailed off. Fuck, he was so bored.

“Know any games for two people?” Merle asked, settling himself across the table. Davenport smiled.

“Yeah, you know Yooker?” He asked with a grin. Merle crossed his legs and leaned against the couch behind him.

“Sure!” He said, taking the cards from his captain and shuffling them, “We used to play between shifts at the clinic. We used to bet chores and money, just to keep it interesting.”

Davenport rested his chin on his hand.

“Well, let’s make it interesting then,” Davenport said, pulling a piece of paper from a drawer in the coffee table. He scrawled down _1 month pay_ before tossing the paper on the table. “When we get home, and get paid for all this fucking overtime, we can settle up.”

Merle laughed, deep and low, before matching Davenport’s bet with his own paper.

“Alright, Dav,” He said, “Let’s see how well you bluff.”

Merle’s calloused hands flipped card after card his way before placing the trump card down between them.

Ace of Wands; facing Davenport, inverted for Merle.

_Shit._

__

“I never… I actually don’t know what my real last name is,” Barry said from where he lay. They were all on the deck of the _Starblaster_ looking up at unfamiliar stars. “The farm was some sort of government funded foster system, meant to teach underprivileged kids real life skills or, whatever. For the most part it was great, actually. I had a big family, and I learned everything hands on. I do sometimes wish there was some way to find out where my family actually came from, but I don’t mind all that much.”

Lup sat up and stared at him.

“You mean to tell me,” she said, steepling her fingers under her chin, “that you _chose_ the name Bluejeans?”

Barry laughed, “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Lup’s sound of disgust was drowned out by the rest of the crew’s laughter.

__

“And that’s game!” Merle smirked at him, collecting his winnings. Davenport moaned. How was Merle so good at this?

“You must be cheating.” He said, clearing the cards away, “No one is that good.”

“Hey, you know what they say, ’you don’t play the cards, you play your opponent’” Merle winked at him. Davenport just glared back.

“I don’t buy it,” Davenport said, “You’ve beaten me every time we’ve played. You’ve got some sort of weird, Dwarven sense about what cards I have.” Merle just laughed.

“Or maybe you’re just lousy at the game.” He said. Davenport tried to glare, but he couldn’t stop a smile spreading across his face.

“One more game. I think my luck is turning.”

__

 

“That was a good try,” Lucretia said, “You miss-conjugated ‘going’ though, but other than that it was good!” Davenport’s ears flicked down in frustration. He dragged his hand through his hair.

“This… This isn’t working, thank you for trying to teach me, Lucretia, but I’m not going to be able to learn this. It’s a waste of time.” He closed the one book in Gnomish that Lucretia had brought with her. She’d been trying to teach him Gnomish for the past three weeks, but Davenport didn’t have a lot of patience for his own mistakes.

“Davenport, you’re doing fine!” She said, smoothing out the verb table she’d written out for him. “It’s not just going to come naturally, you know, and you at least had a few phrases learned already.”

“Yeah, being able to say, ‘fuck you’ and ‘the world’s gone tits up’ has really helped learning the intricacies of an entire language,” Davenport quipped back at her. Lucretia smiled slightly.

“You wanted to do this, Captain, don’t give it up now.” She said.

“It’s just,” Davenport took a breath, “It feels wrong somehow. Like, sure this is part of who I am, I guess, but it doesn’t feel like a part of me. I feel like I _should_ know how to speak Gnomish, but I should have learned it- I don’t know, from my parents or from family or from knowing some other Gnomes I guess.” He gestured to the book, “I mean this has been really lovely, and I’m so glad you’ve taken the time to teach me, but I… I’m never going to be able to speak Gnomish the way my parents did. I’ll have a Common accent, and I’ll be… It just doesn’t feel right.” He finished lamely.

Lucretia didn’t say anything.

“I thought… I thought maybe learning this could make me feel closer to them. I don’t think that it will now.” He climbed down from the chair. “Thank you though, Lucretia, I… I appreciate it.”

__

Davenport fought down a smile. So, long as Merle bet high on his own hand, Davenport could get enough points to take the game. He had enough trump cards to take at least three tricks. Merle laid his cards face down on the table.

“I fold.” He said with a wry grin. Davenport groan, flopping gracelessly onto the table.

“What the _hell_?” He said, “How do you always know?”

Merle reached across the table and ruffled Davenport’s hair.

“Don’t take it too hard,” he chuckled, “It difficult to beat a master at his own game.”

Davenport leaned into the touch a little, enjoying the weight of Merle’s hand.

“Never play against me again,” he said, “That’s a fucking order.” Merle just laughed.

__

 

Davenport came to slowly, and even though he was conscious, he could barely understand what was going on.

“Hang on, Cap’n’port,” said a voice above him, “I’ll get us out of here, don’t worry.”

_Magnus._

Davenport realized with a start that he was being carried, jostled with every stride Magnus took. He tried to shift and felt a burning pain crawl over his side. Looking down, he saw his robe was shiny with blood. Magnus’s chest was streaked in red.

All too suddenly the memory of the day came back to him. A hostile planet. People who refused to give them the Light, and attacked them when they tried to strike a deal. He had contacted them again, arranged a meeting between him and their leader. He’d brought Magnus along for protection, and good thing too. The whole meeting was a set up, and he’d ended up with a spear through his side.

“Cap’n’port, you stay awake now, okay?” Magnus was sprinting back to the ship, “Merle can fix you up, I promise. You just gotta make it until then.”

Davenport tried to clear his head. It wouldn’t do to let his crew see him like this. They couldn’t see him in weakness. He struggled a bit against Magnus’s hold, trying to insist that he could walk, but Magnus was much stronger than him and held him fast.

“Sorry, buddy, I know you don’t like to be carried, but we gotta get there fast.” Magnus said. Davenport gave up with a groan, falling back against Magnus’s chest.

“Don’t… Don’t let them see me like this…” He managed, through gritted teeth, “Don’t let them see that I’m-” Davenport swore in Gnomish as the pain constricted his throat.

“Sure thing, Cap’” Magnus said, “Whatever you say.” Davenport weakly gripped the collar of Magnus’s jacket. His vision was spotting and he felt himself losing consciousness again.

“That’s an order, Burnsides. Don’t let anyone see me.”

 

When Davenport woke up again, he was met with the familiar sight of the stark white ceiling of the medbay. He sighed, and shifted, wincing at the pull of freshly healed flesh. It would be raw for a few days but, a quick glance confirmed that Merle had all but erased the wound.

“Oh, check it out, he’s not dead.” Davenport jerked up at the sound of Taako’s voice. He turned to see his crew, all of them impossible and amazing, lounging around the medbay.

“What are you doing here?” He croaked out. Merle appeared at his bedside and offered a glass of water. Davenport drank it gratefully.

“Waiting for you to wake up really,” Lup said, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t do well for you to wake up, y'know, alone.” Barry said. He was sitting cross legged on the bed next to him, tinkering with some gadget.

“Sorry, Captain.” Magnus said, sitting at the end of his bed, “I know you ordered me not to but, I- everyone was worried and I didn’t want you to have to-” Magnus struggled with his words for a moment before blurting out, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

The room was silent. No one could meet his eyes. Davenport felt a strange rush of affection towards Magnus, and fought back the urge to hug the man.

This was his family.

“Thank you,” He said thickly, “I ah, I appreciate it.”

__

Not everyone made it through every year. There were terrible months spent with people missing from their family while they hunted the light. Taako had met an unfortunate end early on in the year. It was an accident and they were still hopeful they’d find the Light, but his absence weighed on them.

Davenport couldn’t sleep. He never could when he’d lost a member of his crew. Usually it was on his orders, and that responsibility never got any lighter. He stumbled into the kitchen, and was surprised to see Lup bending over an old recipe book.

“Hello, Lup,” He said. She didn’t answer. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah,” She said. Her voice sounded thick and raw, “Just thought I’d whip up a snack so there’s something for breakfast tomorrow.” Davenport watched her chop some fruit they found on the planet and dust it with sugar. He reached for the coffee maker, and poured himself a mug. As he settled on a stool to sit on the counter, he could see how red her eyes were. He took a long drink.

“I know we’re not… we’ll I’m not the person you want to talk to right now,” he said, wincing at his own words. Shit, why was it so hard to talk to people when they were upset? “But, you’re a part of my crew,” oh this was going terribly, “And I’m your Captain,” fuck, he should have just gotten Barry and left this to him, “and I care about you.” He finished, holding onto the mug tightly. “So, if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

Lup didn’t look at him. She put a generous amount of butter into a bowl of batter, and began churning it together.

“I’ve always looked after him, and it’s just-” Lup swallowed, her bottom lip quivering, “It’s not even the first time, I just- Fuck, it sucks so much without him.”

“I’m sorry,” He said, softly, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“It’s just stupid, y’know,” she continued, “He’s coming back, I know it’s only for a bit, but it- it feels like-” Tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed into the batter. “It feels like I’ve lost him, and if I had just- if there was something I could have done…” Davenport hoisted himself onto the counter so he could reach her face.

“Hey now,” He said, as gently as he could, “Careful, you’ll get the batter all salty.” He reached forward and brushed her tears off her cheeks. She let out a blubbering sob before wrapping her arms around his torso, and crying into his shoulder.

He rubbed her back for what felt like hours, while her sobs quieted.

“It’s going to be okay, Lulu,” he pressed a kiss to her temple, “Taako will come back, and he’s going to fine, but it’s okay to miss him now.” Lup sniffled and pulled away from him, wiping her eyes on her robe.

“Thank you, Captain,” She whispered, “I, um, I don’t usually… I’m usually better about this-” she waved her hand vaguely, “sort of thing.”

Davenport just nodded.

“Do you… wanna show me how to make these tarts?” He asked, carefully, “I mean neither of us can sleep so, I might as well.”

She smiled and reached for the recipe book.

“You’re useless at cooking, but I’ll see if I can teach you a thing or two.”

__

“Ha!” Davenport said, throwing his cards down, “Finally! The game is _mine!_ ”

“Heh, yep, it sure is,” Merle chuckled, tossing Davenport his winnings. Davenport gave him a look.

“You let me win, didn’t you,” He accused.

“No, no! You took that all on your own!” Merle held his hands up in mock surrender, “I wouldn’t lose on purpose, you know that. My pride can’t take that kind of thing.” Davenport groaned.

“I know you’re lying,” he said, throwing his hands over his face, “Come on Merle, we’ve been friends for over four decades, I know when you’re hiding something from me.”

“Okay, okay, you caught me,” Merle chuckled, “I just figured, y’know, one time you should be able to take the pot. Might make you a little more inclined to win.” He winked and Davenport just glared back at him.

“How.” He said stubbornly, “How do you _always_ know when I’m bluffing?”

Merle smirked at him and reshuffled the cards.

“Tell ye what,” he said dealing out another hand, “You beat me properly, and I’ll let you in on my secret.”

“Deal.”

__

“Wait you mean _never?_ ” Taako’s eyes lit up with glee, “Never ever?”

“I- I didn’t exactly grow up with a lot of options!” Davenport felt himself blush to the tips of his ears, “I grew up on the base! There wasn’t a person there that didn’t know me as a baby.”

Oh god, what were they drinking. It tasted like a combination of apple cider and the strongest alcohol any of them had ever drunk. They’d been gifted several growlers of the stuff for building a bridge across a gorge to connect the planet’s main settlement. It used to take a month to cross from one side of town to the other and now it could be done in hours.

They were thankful, and the job wasn’t hard, and not only did they get the Light, but whatever this alcohol was would have been worth it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Magnus interrupted the laughter of the crew, “You mean to say that you’ve never even _kissed_ anyone?”

“Yes, Magnus! I’ve never kissed anyone!” God, he was embarrassed.

“Not even someone on one of the planets?” Lucretia pressed.

“No? Wait, have _you_ all been kissing people down on these planets?” He accused. Lucretia blushed and ducked her head.

“Moving on,” Taako said, “Don’t try and detract from the fact that we just learned some _wicked_ embarrassing shit about you.” Everyone laughed, including Davenport. He was pretty drunk at this point. He’d never really had the chance to take up binge drinking on the base either, but he was impressed at his ability to match pace with the rest of his crew.

“Hey, hey, now,” Magnus interrupted again, “I mean, if you don’t want to kiss people-”

“No, no, no! I uh,” Davenport flushed darker, “I have- I mean, I know I want to do, uh, kissing with people, I guess, I just- I’ve been really busy, okay! The world ends every year! I don’t exactly have all the time to play the dating scene!”

“That hasn’t stopped Taako,” Lup murmured into her drink. Taako swatted at his sister. Merle chuckled at their display.

There was a lull in the conversation. Davenport felt hot and wished his drink was colder. He was about to try and dig deeper into who exactly his crew had been kissing, when suddenly long fingered hands were plucking his drink from his grasp and setting it on the coffee table. Taako deftly straddled his lap, placing his knees on either side of his captain to ensure he wasn’t putting any weight on him. Davenport’s eyes went wide.

“I say we rectify that little issue,” Taako’s voice was pitched low and silky. He lifted Davenport’s chin and delicately traced along his jaw. He paused for a moment as though expecting Davenport to pull away, before he leaned forward and captured Davenport’s mouth in a deep kiss.

A thousand thoughts raced through his head. This was his _subordinate_ , there were _regulations against this!_ Where should he put his hands? What is he even supposed to… do?

But, oh he understood now why people made a fuss about kissing. He could hear Barry choke on his drink and Lup cackling with laughter, but all he could think about was Taako’s soft lips pressed to his, and Taako’s hand cupping his jaw and holding him in place.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, Taako broke the kiss, pulling back to give Davenport a dopey grin. Davenport smiled back at him, and gave an over exaggerated wink. Taako burst into laughter and rolled into a backwards somersault to get back to his spot on the floor.

“Hey, no fair,” Magnus said, from Davenport’s right, “If anyone gets to kiss the Captain it should be me.”

“Why the fuck would he kiss you?” Taako retorted.

“I carried him to safety _in my arms!_ ” Magnus swung his arms wide as he spoke, nearly knocking over his drink, “If anything, a token of our dear Captain’s affections would be treasured in courtly fashion.”

Davenport could feel a stitch forming in his side from laughing too hard. He sat up on his knees and beckoned Magnus down to him.

“My hero,” He said, sarcastically, before pulling Magnus in for a kiss. It was worlds apart from Taako. Magnus braced his hands on his lower back before claiming Davenport’s mouth. He was so much larger and Davenport felt caged in his embrace. The kiss was gentle despite the power behind it. When Magnus broke away, Davenport felt light headed. Whether it was from the alcohol or the attention, he didn’t much care.

“Okay, my turn,” Lup said, standing and striding over to him, “If we’re all getting in on this, I’m not passing up my chance.”

Davenport laughed. Fuck, what was happening? Lup settled behind him and turned his head back so she could reach his mouth. She tasted sweet like the cider they were drinking, and he could feel her chest warm against his back. Nestled between her legs and held in place by her hands, Davenport felt like he’d given up control. Lup kissed like she was demanding something from him, and took without question. It was exhilarating.

She finally released him, and he turned back to his crew, only to see that Barry had a death grip on his drink and looked flushed behind his glasses. Lup giggled and hugged Davenport from behind, pressing a kiss to his hair. Barry swallowed noticeably and wet his lips. _Huh. Interesting._

Davenport lounged back against Lup, feeling comfortably buzzed and warm. He didn’t usually allow himself to lose control like this, but it had been a long couple of decades and he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to relax a little.

Barry suddenly downed his drink and knelt in front of Davenport.

“Would you mind, Captain?” He asked coyly, “I’d hate to miss out.”

“I don’t know, will you still respect me in the morning?” Davenport smiled and offered himself to the engineer. Barry snorted out a laugh as he leaned down and kissed him.

This was different. The kiss was tentative and soft, almost exploratory. Davenport found again he didn’t know where to put his hands. There was an element of nervousness that made Davenport want to try again. He wanted to kiss thousands of people just to feel the difference between all of them. Barry broke away blushing and met Lup’s eyes over Davenport’s head. She must have winked because Barry flushed harder and cleared his throat.

“Didn’t know you had it in ya, Bluejeans,” Merle quipped, raising his glass as a toast. Barry gave him the finger.

“Hey Lucy, you wanna try?” Lup said, rounding on their journalist. Lucretia fidgeted nervously. She looked near scandalized by the display.

“Hey now, don’t just go offering me up to people,” Davenport said, mock offended. Lup rolled her eyes and shoved him off her lap.

Lucretia started to say something, but balked, drinking deeply from her glass. She looked very nervous, and a little overwhelmed. Davenport stood and walked over to her. He was about her height when she was sitting, and he could meet her eyes easily.

“How about it,” he took her hand, and kissed the back of it gently, “I promise to be a gentleman.” He watched as she blushed again, but didn’t break eye contact with him.

“I-I yes- sure,” she said quietly, before reaching for him. He dipped his head down and pecked her on the lips. The minute he did, the nervous tension broke and she giggled. Davenport couldn’t help giggling as well. She pecked him back, before picking her drink back up and sipping it. “Thank you, Captain.”

He stepped back away from her into the circle of his friends. He watched as Lup high fived Lucretia and then pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Davenport made to go back to his seat, but was stopped abruptly when he turned and found himself face to face with Merle.

“Hey, Dav,” Merle said, wrapping his larger hand around his waist. Davenport felt his mind go blank.

Without preamble, Merle dipped him low and held him fast. Davenport could feel the muscles of Merle’s arm pressing into his back, and the heat of his chest burned through his side. Something deep inside Davenport fluttered to life. Davenport had about a moment to realized how badly he wanted to kiss Merle before it was happening.

Merle ravished him with his kiss. He was braced between one calloused hand on his back and another in his hair. Davenport felt alight. Merle’s beard brushed against him, and Davenport could feel him shudder slightly as he deepened the kiss. Davenport closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of Merle pressed against him, licking into his mouth and holding him tenderly.

Davenport felt Merle stand him back on his feet before pulling away slowly. Davenport’s eyes fluttered open, and he found he was out of breath.

“Now _that’s_ how you kiss a fella,” Merle said, whirling back to the crew. Taako and Magnus clapped enthusiastically. Lup whooped, and fell backwards laughing.

Davenport numbly walked back to his place and sat down. He grabbed his drink and downed it in one. Whoa.

“Okay, now that our dear Captain has been thoroughly kissed, why don’t you tell everyone the story of _your_ first kiss, brother?” Lup said, arranging herself on her stomach.

Davenport helped himself to more cider while Taako launched into a story from his youth.

This night went very differently than he was expecting.

__

Davenport ran his fingers over the deck of cards and fought down the emotion rising in his throat.

The parlays were necessary. They needed to know more about the Hunger, and this was the only lead they had. Merle shouldered the burden gladly, but-

Fuck, it was a horrible thing to ask of one of his crew.

He felt sick every time Merle left, knowing that he’d ordered one of his crew to their death. Merle always came back with new information, but it was hardly enough to be worth the sacrifice. Every time Merle’s spectral form vanished in a puff of smoke, it added to the weight. He wished there was some other way.

The crew always suffered when Merle was gone. Not having a healer on board made things terribly dangerous. Small injuries that wouldn’t have given them trouble before, were suddenly life threatening. One year, Lucretia had gotten a nasty infection in her leg and it had plagued her for months. It would have been simple to fix it if Merle was there, but it took so long to heal on its own.

Davenport laid a few cards out on the table just to see the bright colours.

“Just until the end of the year…” He whispered to himself, “Just until the end of the year.”

__

When it became too much, when the collective deaths of his crew, of his own, bore down too strongly, he cast an illusion over his quarters. He shrunk the walls closer together, ensuring they were the exact right distance apart.

He tried his best to remember the order of the posters that decorated the walls and then peppered them with pinprick stars. He constructed an imaginary bed over his own, pushed a small dresser to the wall, and a desk by the door.

Once he stood in his own room on the IPRE base, he wrapped the tattered blue blanket around his neck and turned the rattle over and over in his hands. He listened to the small tinkling sound of metal hitting metal and tried to remember how it felt to sit in this room.

No ship to worry about, no crew depending on him, no evil force that chased him from reality to reality. No terrible memories of good and prosperous planets consumed because he just couldn’t find the Light in time.

He tried to crush the feeling he had as they flew away from the Conservatory. He tried to forget the face of every parent that begged them to take their children away with them. Forced himself to ignore the broken bodies of his crew. He’d seen them all dead at this point, sometimes truly terribly, sometimes peacefully as if in their sleep.

Worst of all, he tried to forget flying away from home. He tried to pretend he was still there, still in this tiny room. His parents were coming back, and Alta and Brad would be here for lunch, and Captain Rem was going to teach him something new. He was home.

He was safe.

Sobs burst from his chest. He buried his face in the fleece of his blanket and allowed himself to fall apart. He was so lost, so scared. This was awful.

It was a cruel existence of living and dying and living and dying and sacrificing lives for inches of ground against their enemy. This wasn’t fair. His crew deserved to come home heroes, they deserved to complete their mission, not… not this.

He lay in his bed, and stared at the faded faces of his parents, praying that one day he’d see this room again.

__

When they all shocked to life at the end of the eighty second cycle, Merle immediately crashed down to his knees.

“Whoa, shit dude, you okay?” Magnus dropped down next to him, rubbing his back. Merle didn’t answer.

Davenport ran to him as well, kneeling in front of the cleric. Merle’s eyes were scrunched shut, his hands clenched into fists. Davenport reached out and touched his shoulder.

“I’m not going back,” He said, “I’m not going back there.”

Davenport felt a chill down his spine.

“I’ve learned who he was, I know where he’s from,” Merle gasped in a breath, “I can’t go back. I won’t do it.”

Davenport could feel the eyes of his crew boring into his back.

“You don’t need to, we’ll… we’ll figure this out,” He swallowed thickly, “You don’t need to go back.”

Merle sagged into Magnus. He looked exhausted. Davenport heard Lucretia’s breath hitch.

“You don’t need to go back.”

__

“That’s ah… That’s game.” Davenport set his last card down. He reached across the table and grabbed his winnings. Merle gave him a small smile.

“Heh, I guess it is,” Merle scratched his beard and tossed his remaining cards onto the table, “Nice job, Dav.”

Davenport thumbed the paper in his hands. Merle had been distracted all game, and the win felt hollow. Since Merle had come back from the Hunger, he’d been spacey and disjointed. The crew was worried about him, but there wasn’t much they could do.

“I guess I have to let you in on my secret then, don’t I?” Merle said, a small spark coming back to his eyes.

“Oh right!” Davenport, sat up a little straighter, “Deal is a deal, right?”

“You got it,” Merle said, “You’ve earned it, okay, here’s how I always know when you’re bluffing.”

Davenport leaned in, slightly. Merle took notice of the chance to perform, and drew out the pause.

“Every time we play…” Merle dropped his voice to a whisper, clearly enjoying this a little, “my keen Dwarven eyes notice a detail, too small for anyone else to see…”

Davenport couldn’t hold back a small laugh. It was good to see Merle acting like himself a little more.

“It’s your ears.”

“What?”

“Your ears,” Merle pointed, unnecessarily, “They’re your tell.”

Davenport twitched an ear experimentally.

“Really?” He knew his ears tended to flatten back when he was angry or perk up when he was startled, but he never knew they gave away when he was lying.

“Yup,” Merle said, his usual grin back in place, “Whenever you’ve got a good hand, and you’re trying to hide it, your ears twitch, like you’re excited about something. And when you’re bluffing, they stay stock still. You’re trying to hide how you’re really feeling, but your ears almost never stop moving. So, when they’re still, I know you’re lying to me.”

“Huh,” Davenport said, reaching up to stroke the velvet on the outside of his ear, “Weird… I never noticed that.”

Merle laughed a little and reshuffled the cards.

“Eh, everyone’s got something, Cap,” Merle said, “Even if it wasn’t so obvious, I think by now I could beat you at Yooker in my sleep.”

“Obviously not,” Davenport said, fanning himself with his winnings. Merle laughed, deep and hearty, and Davenport felt his chest grow warm.

“Alright then, wise guy, let’s see how you fare in round two”

__

Captain’s Log, Date and Time Indeterminate

We have been presented with a terrible choice. A choice that we should never have been asked to make. I have no idea what kind of destruction the Light could bring if focused, but the idea of cutting off every bond in an entire reality seems too cruel to even imagine. No mortal man should have to make this choice, but I guess we haven’t really been bound by the laws of mortality for a while.

My crew… I trust them wholeheartedly. I’m sure what they’ve chosen is what’s right for this world. I only hope that one day, we will see the end of the Hunger rather than a prolonged escape from its grasp.

__

Davenport held the Oculus in his hand and wrestled with his emotions for a moment. It wouldn’t be so bad to use it, just once. He wouldn’t even be making something terrible or powerful just a slight redecorating job for his room.

He couldn’t help but think how nice it would be to have his old room on the _Starblaster_ become a reality. It would be so comforting.

Sighing, he placed the Oculus back on the table and sat back down on his bed. He wouldn’t use the Light for his own gain, he couldn’t allow himself to. It wasn’t _right._

Straightening out his regulation uniform, he stood and carried his creation out to the bridge. He flew the _Starblaster_ out over the largest body of water he could find, and tossed the Oculus over the side.

Maybe a lost ship would find it, and it could help them survive. He hoped, at least, that it fell into the hands of someone careful.

Someone wiser than him.

__

The games they played were almost always in silence, but this time it’s different. Usually there wasn’t the great unspoken horror of a world war hanging over them. The familiarity is still comforting, though. Merle is still beating him handily at Yooker.

Davenport had been dealt a bad hand to begin with, and Merle had taken the first two tricks. He could still turn it around, but, it all depended on the next card Merle drew.

Merle placed a hand on the deck and turned over the first card.

The Tower; facing Merle, inverted for Davenport.

 _Well shit_.

That officially ruined Davenport’s strategy. Might as well play it through to the end. He could maybe still take a trick with his Empress, but luck hadn’t been on his side for over a hundred years so, he wasn’t counting on her.

He’d played Yooker once with Alta and Brad. That night, Brad cooked them some regulation pasta, and then used IPRE rations to bake some decidedly non-regulation cupcakes. It was weird for them to be around for dinner, because their classes were always late in the day. They’d asked specifically to mind him for that shift because-

“Holy shit,” Davenport felt a sheen of sweat break out on his palms, “I think it’s my birthday.” He expected to feel sad or regretful for forgetting all those years, but instead he just felt empty. “I… guess we got to start… I guess we gotta start caring about stuff like that again.”

“What are you, like, 130, 140?” Merle laughed, drawing another card.

“Yeah, I don’t know, do we count those years?” He looked at his reflection in the back of his coffee spoon, “I- I certainly didn’t age during that- Jesus, Merle! We’re going to get older now!”

Merle is already showing signs of it. In the past two years, the streaks of grey in his hair and beard became more obvious. The crow’s feet by his eyes were only slightly more prominent, but it was noticeable. Dwarves have a long lifespan, but no longer than Gnomes, and Davenport was hit with the horrible realization that he would outlive some of his crew.

Barry and Lup would remain liches, and they would outlive them all. Taako would make it twice as long as Davenport could. Merle was probably more than halfway through his life, so he had about two hundred years left, if that. Magnus and Lucretia- well, they had about seventy years each, give or take. Davenport felt a rush of affection towards his crew, and was suddenly so incredibly thankful for the extended time with each of them.

“Do you- do you think we’ll be able to have normal lives after this?” Davenport thumbed the edge of the Empress, “Nobody’s ever had a life like ours, there’s no... rule book. I don’t even know where to begin.” He didn’t even have any sort of life to fall back on. The Institute had been his home, and that’s really all he knew.

“Why would you _want_ a normal life? Normal lives… suck!” Merle kicked his feet up on the table, “Like, this game, we play this game, we just sit here. It’s just a way to kill time! C’mon, Skipper, you don’t want to just kill time all the time!”

Davenport laughed.

“I know, I just- How do you wanna live, Merle? Like, I don’t have a-” He faltered on the word ‘home’, “This mission has been my life for a century. I don’t know what I want to do.”

“You wanna know what I’d like to do? I’d like to move to the beach.” Merle answered, his smile kind, “You know why?”

Davenport shook his head.

“Because with the ocean, the scenery is always changing’.” Merle continued, “And I want the scenery to always be changing’, man. I don’t wanna be lookin’ at the same thing all the time… I wanna see a million, billion shells… I wanna watch rain come sweepin’ in… That’s, that’s the life, right there! Change it up, man! Keep it interesting!”

It made sense that Merle wanted to live by the beach. Their year of rest on the Ocean World was one of the best memories he had. The sun-bleached shells Merle had collected for him were still tucked away safely with his non-regulation items. Davenport remembered how the sun had warmed him right down to his bones and how light the twins’ hair became.

The feeling of the sand under his feet faded to a low buzz of static. He blinked in surprise, dropped the cards he was holding and grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. He felt the oncoming pain of a headache start pressing down on him and immediately, desperately needed some fresh air.

When he looked at the windows, though, he was shocked to see them bolted closed with two thick, enchanted panes of glass. And outside the windows, he could see a huge outstretch of blue sky, and a rolling view the landscape below.

“Wait… wait… Where am I?” He glanced at Merle across the table and suddenly couldn’t remember what they were doing, “You’re- you’re Merle- right? I know you… What’s going on?”

He knew Merle, he had to, why else would he be sitting with him? It was a thought that kept getting pushed farther back in his mind by a rising wave of static.

If he could just remember why he was here, or where here was. He was moving, the room he was in was moving. He could feel it. Where they in a train?

“Wait… Who are you?” The Dwarf sitting across from him asked.

The pressure in his head grew so painful tears burst hot from behind his eyes.

“I’m Davenport…”

He was a Captain. He had a family. He had to find them, they could help him. Maybe this Dwarf knows where they are, but he can’t even remember ever meeting a Dwarf. He buried his hands in his hair and pulled, trying to force himself to focus. There was something important, something he was supposed to do. He was here for a reason, but what _was_ it?

“I’m Davenport!”

Davenport was a Captain who lost his ship in the fog until his crew froze to death in the emptiness between the planes. Davenport was a broken coffee machine with every wire snapped, every bond cut off. Davenport was the light from inside a projector shattered into seven parts, the edges digging into his skin and staining a cold tiled floor deep red. Davenport was a small metallic sound and something soft and blue.

_“I’m Davenport!”_

He had to be Davenport. He had to be Davenport. It’s all he knew how to be. Everything he did was to _be_ Davenport. His vision whited out as the pain in his head seemed to split his skull. He dragged his nails down his face, trying desperately to escape the building roar behind his eyes. He felt pain shock through his bones as he crashed down to his knees.

Warm, calloused hands grabbed a hold of his wrists and pulled them away from his face. Cracking his eyes open Davenport saw the Dwarf, shaking, eyes pinched shut.

“You alright?” The Dwarf looked like he was in as much pain as Davenport felt. His chest was heaving, and even as he steadied Davenport, his hands were trembling.

Davenport tried to respond, but all that came out was a terrible keening whine. He was in agony, and he was terrified, and he didn’t know what was happening.

“Don’t worry, son, I’m a doctor,” The Dwarf gasped, through heavy breaths, “We’ll figure this out, just wait it- fuck! Just wait it out…”

Davenport pawed at the Dwarf’s chest. He tried to force out a word, but all he could a make was a low pained whine. His mind was shutting down. He couldn’t keep his eyes open.

The two of them keeled over sideways, Merle breaking his fall, and then Davenport knew no more.

__

“Captain Davenport?”

Davenport.

He was Davenport.

“Davenport, can you hear me?”

Yes, he can hear her. He can hear her, and she’s calling him Davenport, which is his name.

“Davenport, can you open your eyes?”

Davenport opened his eyes and then squeezed them shut against the rush of static that filled his head. He let out a moan, and then winced as his throat protested. Had he been screaming? He couldn’t remember if he had been.

_The Tower, inverted on the table._

“Davenport, are you in pain?”

Yes, yes, yes it hurts. His head hurts, it hurts so badly because he’s _lost_ something important and he can’t remember what it was or- Why does his head hurt?

“Davenport?”

That’s his name.

“Davenport? Answer me!”

He felt the blackness creep over him, and felt a stab of fear.

The darkness was frightening, overwhelmingly so, but he couldn’t place why.

“Just rest a moment, Davenport, I’ll take you somewhere safe.

__

When Davenport Davenport opened his eyes, he saw a ceiling made from wooden slats held together with thick iron bolts. He didn’t know how he got here.

“Davenport? Oh, thank the gods, I was worried.”

There was a woman with him, around thirty, not smiling. She had been sitting at a table nearby, but bustled over to him as soon as he moved.

“Davenport, how are you feeling?”

Davenport was feeling like he was run over by a train.

“Davenport?”

The woman looked worried.

He should answer her.

He should really answer her.

His name is Davenport.

“I’m Davenport.” He said, his voice croaking out. Fuck, he was thirsty. He looked to the bedside table and saw a pitcher. Without thinking, he poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down.

The woman didn’t look pleased.

“Are you feeling alright?” She asked.

_No, I feel like death passed me over._

“Davenport Davenport”

The woman looked heartbroken.

“You… Davenport, try and say something else okay? I want you to try.” Static flared in his head as she said that. It hurt, and the pain scared him. What was wrong with his head?

She gestured to the bed.

“What are you sitting on?”

_A bed._

“Davenport.”

She shook her head.

“No, you’re sitting on a bed, say ‘bed’, Davenport.”

_Bed._

“Davenport.”

She huffed in frustration, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Please Davenport, really try okay? Really, really try.”

Davenport focused. This was a bed, he knew what a bed was, it’s for sleeping on, he’s had a bed before, he-

Had he? He must have, where else would he have slept.

He probed deeper, trying to remember what his bed looked like and was met with a painful wave of static. Deep in the mess he managed to pick out a memory of soft and blue.

“Bed.” He grit out, teeth clenched together against the pain.

This only seemed to upset the woman more. She ran to him, placing her hands on either side of his face.

“Shh, shhhh, it’s alright, don’t- oh _Davenport,_ what have I done?”

He shook his head. She hadn’t done anything. 

“Davenport… Davenport”  
_It’s okay, you didn’t mean to hurt me_

She sighed and ran a hand over her long hair. She’d pulled it back into a thick ponytail. Davenport thought it suited her.

“We’re going to stay here for a few more nights, I’ll… I’ll have to call on the academy and tell them you’re not available.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’ll… I’ll figure out a place for you, Davenport.”  

He got out of the bed. He wobbled for a moment on his feet, unsteady for some reason. She reached out and held him so he didn’t fall over.

“Davenport?” He asked.  
_Who are you?_

She just looked at him.

“Davenport? Davenport Davenport Davenport?” He pressed on.  
_Where are we? Who are you and why do you know my name?_

“I don’t- Davenport, I can’t understand you.” She looked frustrated again, as though the more he spoke, the more she was getting angry. She grabbed a pen and a small journal and thrust them into his hands. “Here, can you write? Maybe you can write to me what’s wrong…”

Davenport quickly scrawled out a message.

_I want to know who you are. I can’t remember how I got here, and I can’t remember what I’m supposed to do. Please, just tell me what’s going on. I’m getting a little scared._

He handed back her book only for her to groan and pinch the bridge of her nose. Looking at the paper, he could see that he had only written _Davenport_ over and over.

 _“_ Davenport! Davenport Davenport…” he said, desperate for her to look at him again.  
_I’m really trying, please, don’t be upset! I just want to know what’s happening…_

The woman sighed and seemed to steel herself. She knelt near him again and spoke clearly.

“I know you must be confused, and I’m sorry about that.” She spoke clearly, as if to a child, “You are my ward. You’ve lost a lot of your memory in an accident, and I’m going to take care of you. Do you understand?”

“Davenport?” He asked frantically.  
_What happened to me?_

“Listen, I know things don’t seem to make sense right now, but it will all be better soon,” She promised, “I’m going to take care of you,” she said again, “You don’t need to be afraid.”

“Davenport,” He said, fighting down a lump in his throat.  
_I can’t help it._

“Oh, Davenport…” She said, softly. Hesitantly she reached her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Davenport burrowed into her embrace. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise, I’m going to take care of you.”

“Davenport Davenport…” He replied, his voice muffled by her robes.  
_I don’t have anyone else to trust…_

__

“These are… well, these are your things, Davenport.”

Davenport looked at the small pile of items the woman had laid in front of him.

He’d been staying in this room for the past few days. She’d been bringing him food, and he’d been too weak to do much else than sleep for hours. She left him alone here for hours each day, but he heard the door lock every time she did. He’d been wondering if she was going to take him out of this room, or if he was going to have to stay here forever.

“Davenport Davenport?” He asked, picking up a small silver rattle.  
_What am I supposed to do with these?_

“I um… I just thought you should have them,” She said, running her finger along the edge of a wooden box.

“Davenport?”  
_Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”_

“We’ll stay in this tavern for a while, until we find a better place to stay.” She stood and brushed off her robes.

“Davenport! Davenport Davenport?”  
_Stop leaving me here! What happened to me?_

“I’ll just leave you to it then,” She said, making to leave.

Davenport threw the box to the ground, smashing it and all its contents on the floorboards. China and glass shards scattered everywhere. The woman ran back and fell to her knees in front of him.

“Davenport!” She looked distraught, “What’s wrong, what’s going on?”

“Davenport!” He could feel tears building behind his eyes.  
_I’m scared!_

“Oh, Davenport I- I know this must be very hard for you…”

“Davenport! Davenport Davenport Davenport Davenport?”  
_Stop saying that! Just tell me what’s going on. What happened to me, what am I going to do?_

The woman tried to pull him into a hug, but Davenport fought her. He didn’t know her. She didn’t tell him anything and he was too angry to touch her. She shrank back, looking a little wounded. Davenport screwed up all his strength and grit his teeth.

“Who… are you?” He said, against the raging wave of static that rolled through his head. The pain caused the tears to finally drip down his cheeks.

“I can’t tell you, I’m sorry, it’s… It’s complicated Davenport,” she twisted her hands, “Please, just- just stay here. I have some important things I need to take care of, and then we’ll… we’ll figure out something better.”

She got up again, and walked towards the door again.

“Davenport!”  
_Come back!_

He wouldn’t let this happen again. She couldn’t just leave him here again. He would make her listen. He would force her to answer his questions.

He reached down and grabbed one of the razors that scattered close to him. He leveled it with his own collarbone and shrieked wordlessly. The woman whirled back around and screamed.

“Davenport! Don’t-! Don’t do anything! Stop!”

“Davenport! Davenport! Davenport Davenport!”  
_Tell me! Tell me what’s going on! Don’t fucking leave, don’t leave without telling me anything!_

“Davenport, please, listen, I know you’re upset,” She started, moving closer to him. He brought the razor closer to himself and she stopped. “I-I don’t- I don’t have a choice, please, you just- just a bit longer, I promise, and then we can figure this out.”

“Davenport!”  
_Don’t you dare!_

“Capt- Davenport, you’re going to be okay, just put that down,” She seemed near tears.

Davenport squared his shoulders and steadied his hand.

“No,” He said, and was relieved when there was only a small shock of static.

“Davenport,” The woman said staring him down, “ _Drop it.”_

The command spell took control of his thoughts easily and he tossed the razor down to the ground. The woman easily levitated all the items in the room out expect his mattress and bedding. Her hands were shaking as she did. Davenport just stood still, tears building up again.

He was so lost.

“Davenport…”  
_Don’t…_

The woman turned back to him and knelt.

“Lucretia,” She said softly, tears welling up in her eyes, “My name is Lucretia.”

“Davenport.”  
_Thank you._

She stood and walked back to the door. Davenport felt panic rising in him.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back, I promise,” She reached for the door, and stepped out.

“Davenport!”  
_No, no please don’t leave!_

She glanced back at him and then shut the door.

“Davenport Davenport!”  
_I won’t do anything like that again!_

Davenport slammed his small fists against the wood, even as he heard the lock click.

“Davenport!”  
_Wait!_

He listened as her footsteps faded, and he was left alone again. Sobs bubbled up from his chest, making his throat constrict painfully. He slumped into a corner, letting himself shake apart. He was so alone, and he couldn’t even remember who he was beyond his name.

Lucretia was the only person he knew. Even if he could leave, it would be nearly impossible to communicate with anyone, or find her or-

Fuck, he was useless.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He tried to draw himself back to something safe, something familiar. He whimpered when he only found static.

Focusing again, he managed to skirt along the edge of the static to find something solid. A room. Something small and clean. Perfectly square and cold under his feet. The minute he touched the memory, he was flooded with a feeling of deep contentment. This must be his home.

In his mind’s eye, he walked across the room, and sat down on his bed. He couldn’t remember where this place was, and the walls had huge patches of static on them, but it was still comforting.

Curling up on his mattress, Davenport lulled himself to sleep, tracing the edges of his room.

__

It took Lucretia nearly twenty hours to return to him. Someone from downstairs in the tavern brought him food after about ten, but didn’t linger by the door at all. Probably instructed not to talk to him. It didn’t matter really, Davenport wouldn’t be able to talk back.

He had eaten the food, and waited for her.

At one point, he was worried she’d abandoned him, but she had promised to come back, and he had nothing else to believe.

He nearly cried when he heard the lock turn, and saw the door open. He rushed forward, heart in his throat and fell to his knees.

“Davenport, davenport, davenport, davenport…” the words tumbled out in a mess.  
_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so glad you’re back, you came back…_

He couldn’t help gasping when Lucretia stepped into the room. She looked horrible. Her hair was streaked with grey, and wrinkles had formed beside her eyes. Her robes were bloodstained and torn. She looked like she had been put through hell and only just made it out.

“Oh Davenport,” she whispered, sitting down with her back against the door, “Oh Davenport, I… I’m so sorry.” She reached for him with her suddenly thinner hands and he didn’t hesitate before taking them in his own.  “Davenport, I’ve made a horrible mistake. Oh, I can’t- I can’t do this alone, I need… Oh gods, I need help.”

He shuffled closer to her, taking her face in his hands. She let out a soft sob, “Davenport, I’m not like you, I’m not strong enough to do this, I can’t- I need them back, Davenport, I need them back.”

“Davenport… Davenport? Davenport,” He said, petting her hair.  
_I don’t know who you mean… What happened to you? Let me take you to the bed._

He tugged at her hand until she followed him and he led her slowly to the mattress that he’d been using as a nest.

“Davenport.”  
_It’s going to be okay._

“Davenport, we… we’re going to fix this.” Lucretia said, laying down on the mattress, “I’m going to fix this.”

__

“You want answers,” Lucretia said, over breakfast the next day. She periodically had to remind Davenport how to use the cutlery, but he had the hang of it now, “And I’m sorry I haven’t told you anything yet.”

“Davenport,” He said, placing his fork down.  
_I do._

“I… I’m sorry I locked you in here Davenport, but please understand that it was for your own good,” She ran a hand over her newly greying hair, “There is… There’s a group of people who are terribly evil. They’re called Red Robes. They’re responsible for some of the most terrible destruction in the world. Worst of all… they cursed you.”

Davenport felt his stomach turn.

“These Red Robes were very powerful wizards, and you… you knew something they needed. I don’t know what it was, but they needed it and you wouldn’t give it to them. So, they-” Her voice sounded strained, “They tore everything out. They took every memory you had so they could pick it apart at their leisure. They only left you your name.”

Davenport felt his throat close.

“Davenport… Davenport Davenport? Davenport?”  
_That so horrible… Who- Who could even do that to another person? Who was I before?_

“I found you when I was researching their whereabouts, and I didn’t know if I could trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything before.” She laid the items she’d presented to him before on the table. “I found you with these things beside you, I assumed they must be yours.”

Davenport reached for the blanket, rubbing ratty blue material against his cheek. He could only just remember this, but it was enough. It was all he had. He saw her smile slightly.

“I took them because I was worried you’d hurt yourself yesterday,” She whispered, “I’m sorry about that as well, it wasn’t fair to you to keep you in the dark.”

“Davenport…”  
_It’s… It’s alright._

“Yesterday, I went to destroy one of their weapons, but I-” her voice gave out, “I failed. I couldn’t do it. They did _this_ to me. I wasn’t strong enough.” Tears dripped down her face. Davenport felt his heart break. This woman was so strong, and she’d clearly worked so hard against an evil that had the power to erase an entire life. She must be exhausted.

“Davenport,” He reached across the table and took her hand.  
_Thank you, for telling me everything._

She smiled at him weakly.

“But, now we can leave here. I was hiding you here because I was worried if they found you, they would kill you or- or worse. Now I’m certain that they’ve killed each other off. All that remains are the horrible weapons that they created.” Lucretia squeezed his hand, “I’ll keep you safe, Davenport, I promise.”

He felt a rush of affection towards her. He could leave here and she would take care of him. He was going to be safe. Maybe there was no way to be the person he was before, a person he couldn’t even remember, but at least now he had a chance at a life. Lucretia would give him that.

“Davenport.”  
_I trust you, Lucretia._

__

Davenport stared down the kettle on the stove. Lucretia had bought them a tiny cottage outside of Neverwinter to operate out of for the time being. She had been working for weeks now, writing letter after letter to whatever powerful person would receive it. She was trying to build something, something big enough that she could destroy these weapons.

When she wasn’t working, she took care of both of them while Davenport had to slowly relearn life. He could remember to do most things, but sometimes the order got confused or he forgot a step.

She put a few helpful notes around his room, reminding him where his clothes were, or to brush his teeth. Most days, he could go through his morning routine without help, but sometimes Lucretia had to walk him through every step.

He could recognize that this wasn’t his fault but he still felt useless. Despite the progress he made, he couldn’t help but feel like she was doing too much to help him.

Hence his latest challenge. He’d seen Lucretia make tea before. He’d studied it. He’d noted every step down and was determined to see it through. He reached for the kettle and filled it with water from the bucket by the stove. He’d seen Lucretia bring it in from the well outside, so it was good to drink.

He pushed a small step stool in front of the stove and placed the kettle on top. He looked below to see there was already kindling and a few larger pieces of wood settled inside. It was all ready.

Now came the tricky part. Lucretia had snapped and sparks easily flew from her fingers and caught the tinder alight. He’d never tried to do this, but it couldn’t be too difficult, right? He took a deep breath, placed his hand inside the stove, and snapped.

Sparks instantly burst forth from his hand and the kindling jumped to life with flame. He quickly pulled his hand back and winced at the static that pressed against the back of his head. Okay, next step.

He pushed a kitchen chair to the cupboard and climbed up. Frowning, he sifted through the numerous tins in the cupboard. One of them had tea in it. He pulled a green tin with a flower on the lid towards him, and opened it. The smell hit him and he recognized it from the last time Lucretia had made tea. He double checked the label, and took a moment to place the word _Jasmine._

The kettle’s screech startled him and he nearly fell off the chair. He quickly stepped up on the stool and took the kettle off the heat.

His hand seared in pain. He only just placed the kettle down before he fell to his knees, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. A cloth, damn it, he needed to use a cloth to move a hot kettle. Shit, he _knew_ he was going to forget something.

He placed his hand in the bucket of cold water and sighed at the relief. Inspecting his skin, he saw that there was a shiny red patch on his palm, but there wasn’t too much damage. After the initial pain faded, he found he felt just fine.

Still focused on the task at hand, he pushed the stool to the counter and placed a teabag in a teapot. Carefully, he wrapped his hand in a dishtowel and lifted the kettle. He slopped a bit of water onto the counter but the pot filled. Pushing the chair to another part of the kitchen, he took down a tray, a tea cup and a small plate of biscuits. After arranging everything on the tray, he carefully carried it up to Lucretia’s room.

She was sitting at her desk, pouring over some responses. She didn’t look up as he walked in.

“Davenport!” He said cheerfully.  
_Tea!_

She jumped at his voice and stared at him holding the tray. There was a moment where they just looked at each other; Davenport beaming at her, and Lucretia staring mouth agape.

“Oh _Davenport,”_ her eyes welled up with tears and she took the tray from him, placing it on the table, “You made _tea_ for me, oh I’m- Oh, Davenport, _thank you”_

“Davenport,” He said, but he couldn’t help smiling.  
_It was nothing._

Over the next few months, when they weren’t too busy trying to save the world, Lucretia found tasks for him to do. She taught him to complete little chores around their cottage. It was difficult, Davenport had to relearn almost everything, but each victory made them both so happy. Eventually, Lucretia could give him a list of things they needed from Neverwinter and trust him to return with all of them.

Davenport enjoyed his new freedom, and relished the ability to walk down the road and wander the brightly coloured markets of Neverwinter without worrying that he wouldn’t find his way back.

It was difficult to communicate to the shopkeepers at first, but if Davenport focused he found he could say _just_ enough words to make himself understood. After a month, they all knew him well enough, that saying his name was enough.

“I’m very proud of you, you know that right?” Lucretia said one night after Davenport had (mostly) made dinner by himself, “You’ve worked so hard and you can do so much more now.” Davenport smiled up at her.

“Yeah, that’s right!” He said brightly. Static flared in his head at the words, but less so than before. The more he learned the easier it was to say words other than his name. It still hurt, but it wasn’t the splitting headache he’d come to expect. Besides, it made Lucretia look so happy when he did.

__

Davenport spent most of his nights on the Bureau Base looking up at the stars. Here, they looked close enough to touch. Reaching his hand up, he traced lines between the pinpricks of light, drawing teapots and flowers in the sky.  

Life on the base was somehow comforting. The routine and limited space provided an optimal place for him to relearn other aspects of his life. He could still barely speak, but now he could communicate better. As the staff on the moon base grew, there were more people to practice with, and he grew to like everyone here, despite their extremely varied backgrounds.

Lucretia was more stressed though, and that troubled him. Every time they lost a Regulator to the Relics, she would fall into a deep depression, and refused to see anyone. Davenport was the only person with access to her office in those times, and he’d taken it upon himself to ensure that she was brought food and tea whenever she needed. She appreciated it, he could tell, but remained stoic.

The Director was a difficult role to play, but she took the weight impressively. No matter how many people they lost, The Director was devoted to her cause. The Bureau ran smoothly and no one questioned her command. There was no one he’d trust more to save the world.

Even now, though, Davenport’s mind rebelled against him. There were times when The Director would say something and all he could hear was static. There were days when he would probe too deeply at a hole in his mind and he’d suddenly be wracked with painful headaches for the rest of the day. It was better than it was, but Davenport was slowly realizing he’d never have a normal life. Whoever he was before was dead. There was no way for him to get back to that.

When it all became too daunting, Davenport pressed the scrap of blue fabric to his cheek and imagined that small room. He still had no idea where it was, or how he would ever find it again, but it comforted him.

He had a home. Somewhere, he had a home.

And maybe, when the world wasn’t ending, The Director would help him find it.

__

“Davenport!”  
_Hello!_

“Oh hello, sir!”

Davenport smiled at the Bureau’s newest recruit and set a tea tray with mug and some cookies down on the low coffee table. Angus took the mug and gave it a curious sniff, before beaming at Davenport.

“Oh man, I’m glad you guys had this,” Angus said, before taking a huge gulp of hot chocolate, “I was worried I’d have to start drinking coffee like I was a grown up.” He smiled at Davenport again, chocolate staining his top lip.

“Davenport,” Davenport responded, pointing out the mess.  
_You’ve got chocolate on your face now._

Angus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” He said, taking a cookie and dunking it in the drink, “Did Mr. Taako make these?”

“Davenport Davenport,” Davenport said, shaking his head.  
_No, they’re from a bakery in Rockport._

“That’s a shame,” Angus said, “I’ve been doing research on all the people who work here, and there are a bunch of old newspapers that advertise him leading a cooking show. Can you imagine? That’s such a cool thing!”

“Davenport,” Davenport agreed.  
_Yeah, pretty cool._

“I haven’t found anything from before then, but that might be because he wasn’t famous yet,” Angus shoved the cookie into his mouth.

“Davenport,” Davenport chided.  
_Don’t make yourself choke, kid._

“I’m careful, don’t worry.” Angus said, reaching for another cookie.

“Davenport, Davenport… Davenport Davenport?” Davenport asked, taking a cookie for himself.  
_Not many people really get what I mean, but you do easily… You can’t understand me can you?_

“I’m really good at reading body language, and inflection,” Angus replied, “And you really exaggerate yours. Probably ‘cause, you need people to at least sort of understand what you mean, and you can’t rely on your words to get there.”

“Davenport.”  
_Huh._

“Anyways, thank you for the hot chocolate and the cookies, sir, they were really good!” Angus said, taking the plate of cookies over to his desk. He settled back into his book quickly, and Davenport got the impression he’d been almost forgotten.

“Davenport!”  
_Anytime, kid!_

__

“So terrible… and all to bring his mother back.” Lucretia reviewed Lucas’s Rights of Remembrance, “I couldn’t imagine what he was going through…”

“Davenport…” Davenport answered, somberly.  
_He must have really loved her…_

“But all that… _All that,_ risking the fate of the world just to see her again.” The Director shook her head, “It seems like so much to give up for just one person.”

“Family,” Davenport said, hiding the stab of pain when static flared up in his head.

The Director looked at him with wide eyes.

“Yes… Of course, he- I guess to him the world-” She stuttered to a stop and composed herself, “well, the world didn’t mean much to him without his family there…”

She thumbed the edge of the pages.

“It’s horrible that he had to make that choice…” She whispered. Davenport put a hand on her knee.

“Davenport.”  
_Don’t worry, you did the right thing._

__

Davenport had never felt anger as strongly as when he saw the man run at the dais, clearly trying to hurt The Director. Without thinking, he stepped in the way. He would die before anyone hurt the woman that saved him. She had important work to do. She was fixing this, and once her plan was carried out, she could save the world. She was all he had.

She was his _family._

The man was taller than him and stronger. There was no question which of them would win, but he had to try. The Director had her own protections in place, but he couldn’t trust that this man wasn’t some agent from the red robes.

They collided with a sickening crack as Davenport tried to tackle him to the ground. The man met his attempt easily, and pushed him down, holding him in place.

Davenport managed to slow the man down, just enough that the guards could pull him away, and The Director wasn’t disturbed. With one last effort, the man shoved something into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Davenport snarled as the man was dragged back. How dare he even come in here and attack them? Taako, Angus, and Merle were there too, and they…

They were being held back as well.

Davenport had assumed they came in after this man, intent on stopping him from attacking The Director, but now it seems they had been brought here by the guards as well. Were they…

Oh gods, they’d been betrayed.

Davenport felt a horrible wave of emotion rise in him, thinking of all the time he had spent with them. They were his family as well, how could they do this to him?

“Oh my god. Did you-” The Director sounded horrified from her place in her sphere, “did you inoculate yourselves?”

“Yes, we did,” Merle answered, pressing his fingers to his temples. He looked pained, and Davenport almost felt bad for him before remembering that he had betrayed The Director.

“It’s gonna be too much, you’re gonna remember too much,” The Director sounded more panicked now, “it’s too—it’s too specific, you’ll be killed, why—why did you do that?”

“We’re stupid?” Merle’s hands were balled into fists.

Davenport was about to ask what was going on when a familiar command spell took hold of his mind.

_Drink._

Looking down he saw a small flask in his hands. Uncorking it quickly, he drank all the liquid inside, letting a little dribble down his chin in his haste.

And then his head felt like it was being split in two.

Memories that had been buried under layers and layers of scar tissue tore their way free, erecting structures in his mind. He could barely hear Lucretia talking through the clearing static, but she was talking about-

_The Mission. The first mission outside the planes. The Mission that lasted a century._

_The choice they made, the terrible, terrible choice._

_Every planet, every face they left behind to be consumed by the Hunger, every face they saved._

_The taste of cider and a giddy sensation._

_Tarts that were a little too salty and a little undercooked._

_His crew, laughing, fighting, dying for him._

_He owed Merle so much overtime pay._

_Their home, their dimension, the one they abandoned because it was too dangerous to go back._

_The Institute, the base that he was born on._

_Staring down at The Director from his desk._

_Captain Rem’s gnarled hands, rubbing together in satisfaction._

_Alta’s laughter. Brad’s grumbling._

_The tinkling sound of metal hitting metal._

_The smell of his mother’s perfume._

_His father’s voice ringing out from the kitchen._

_The twelve by twelve room he’d known his whole life._

Davenport gasped quietly, but no one paid him any mind. He silently begged for it to stop, it was too painful. He _forgot_ this. His life, his crew, his-

_Finding his father’s shaving kit._

_Breaking the projector._

_Merle leaving year after year on his orders._

_Oh god, Magnus was dead._

_The devastation of the wars._

He felt his throat close when he remembered that he shattered the shaving kit on the ground. It hadn’t meant anything to him then. How could the only thing that was left of his parents not mean anything to him?

_The tower inverted on the table._

The day when everything fell apart. The day he lost everything. He still didn’t know what even _happened_ to him.

“When I redacted the logs to feed to the second Voidfish, I let you—I let you keep your names while eradicating any information pertaining to the mission.”

No.

No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t have done this.

She was his crew, his friend, and his most trusted ally. She was the one they entrusted with their story.

But there was another image of Lucretia. The woman who cared for him, and taught him how to tie his shoes and brush his own hair. A strange overlay of the two existed in his mind where the edges didn’t quite meet.

She took his memories. She took his personhood. Hell, she took his whole life, and then reshaped it to suit her needs. She spent years telling him that there was no way to help him.

Did she know how painful this was? Did she know how horrible it was not to know who you were?

Did she know what it was like not to remember anyone caring for you, or a place that you could call home? How hard it was to relearn how to eat properly or get dressed?

Oh god, and his crew saw him like this. They saw him when he was little more than an animal. Hell, they treated him like a pet half the time.

What would they think of him now?

He stumbled, knocking the tray off the dais and letting it crash to the floor.

“Lucretia? What have you done?”

__

Davenport fought down tears as he pressed his hand to the _Starblaster’s_ hull. He was still the Captain of this ship, and he’d go down the Captain, if he had to.

“You up for one last flight, old buddy?”

**Author's Note:**

> So a few notes.... Griffin helpfully left all the timelines really vague so I did take some liberties to make this whole situation work. 
> 
> Johann says that they've had the Voidfish for about a year when the THB join the BoB, but the BoB has been clearly operating since long before then. Also, if Davenport's memory was destroyed by Fisher, and the Director fed information about the BoB to fisher, Davenport wouldn't be able to be on the base. So I speculate that the BoB was running in secret without any Voidfishy hiding (maybe that's why they disguised the base as the moon) and then once Junior was born, Lucretia erased the mission again, they all got inoculated via Fisher, and the BoB was erased after. (This does also imply that Lucretia could have had a chance to try and leave Davenport a few more memories than the last time she did this, in order to like... help him recover and didn't, but that's an implication for another fic.)
> 
> Also ages! No one has a canon age, so these are purely my own fiction, but I liked the idea of Davenport being this young upstart military brat on his first mission. Taako and Lup would be in their late 20's accounting for life on the road from age 12 onwards and also wizarding school (how did any of these people go to wizard school griffin??) Merle is about 250 cause I like the idea of this Mission being a mid life crisis. Mags is 25 and Lucretia is like 23, based on the fact that ten years later-ish Travis said Magnus was in his thirties and Lucretia lost 20 years in Wonderland and looks over 50. Barry got a scholarship to wizard school and joined their streamline military exploration program in order to be guaranteed a career so he's about the same age as the twins.
> 
> Also I know exactly nothing about DnD, so I'm sure there are Mistakes, but w/e it's a fic idc
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
